Something to Talk About
by Buckingham
Summary: It doesn't take much to get people talking...
1. Chapter 1

Spoilers/Timeline: Set after season 4, no specific spoilers

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Rating: M (Nothing explicit but some pretty blatant sexual references)

A/N: Okay, so my very first Bones fic and this is what I came up with. Yeah, sometimes I wonder about myself too. LOL This will probably be the first part in a short series.

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"I'm just saying it's been my experience that they pretty much all need to be talked into it. Bribed even. Because you know, if there's nothing in it for them then what's the point? It's like they're five years old and the only reason they'll eat their broccoli is because they're getting ice cream afterward."

Angela is at home in Brennan's office, at home with frank conversations and unflinching observations, at home with her closest friend considering everything she says with an intense, analytical eye and a skeptical, unimpressed expression. She leans back against the sofa, watching as Brennan does just that, turns over her words with deliberation and doubt.

"You're speaking in absolutes, Angela, and this is subject that clearly depends on the male in question," Brennan says. "It's irrational to assume that all men are the same based on the sampling, whatever the size, that you're familiar with."

"It's not like I'm pulling this out of thin air, sweetie," Angela laughs. "I've talked to other women. It's pretty much a consensus. I mean, is what I'm saying so out there? You've never slept with a guy who had a problem with it?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm only suggesting that-"

"Bones! Come and get it! I've got a live one for ya…"

Booth breezes into the room, chomping on a toothpick. He stops short suddenly, head cocked as he puzzles over something.

"Well, not a *live* one, obviously," he corrects. "A juicy… well, not juicy either, actually, but you know what I mean. I've got a skeleton you're just going to love getting your hands on."

He pauses again, looking between the two women. Angela figures his sixth sense must be kicking in, that innately male trait that always seems to pick up lingering talk of sex or something equally titillating.

"I'm sorry," he says then, sounding anything but. His eyes are bright and his grin is sly and Angela wonders, not for the first time, what he'd look like stripped naked and slathered in hot fudge. "Am I interrupting something?"

Angela waves a hand dismissively.

"Nothing earth shattering," she sighs. "We were having a slight disagreement actually, so it's probably just as well that-"

"Yes," Brennan interrupts. "Angela contends that *all* men are less than enthusiastic when it comes to cunnilingus and will only perform the act if a reciprocal orgasm is promised in exchange."

Booth's cheeks darken and he swallows almost audibly. He's always so uncomfortable when Brennan speaks freely and frankly about sexual matters, and it's no secret to Angela why.

It hits a little too close to home with his fantasies, she's willing to bet.

But he bobs his head after a moment, like he's considering the argument himself, and looks Brennan's way.

"And you disagree?" he asks.

She nods, her expression utterly blank. It seems so unlike her, to not immediately state her case and push Booth to see her point of view, and Angela, who was just thinking about heading back to her office and leaving them to their work, decides to pick up her friend's slack. Because toying with Booth is way too much fun to pass up and he's always so cute when he squirms.

"You know, now that you're here, Booth, maybe you can shed some light on the matter," Angela says with a grin. "You are a guy after all. What's your take on the subject?"

He frowns, his brow furrowed as he squints at her, utterly unamused. He cuts his eyes to Brennan for a moment, who's tilted her head and is watching him with a ghost of a smile curving her lips. Angela suspects that her friend is enjoying this just as much as she is and wonders again why Brennan isn't the one putting him on the spot, isn't the one turning the screws.

Booth clears his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"We've got a case," he insists. "So we really should-"

"It's just a simple question," Angela says. "It'll take a second to answer and then you and Bren can go and play superheroes, okay?"

She glances over at Brennan, figuring that now's the moment she'll jump in, now's the moment she'll push him for his opinion, citing anthropological curiosity and study. Instead, though, she just leans back against the sofa, arms crossed against her chest, watching her partner with a strange, unidentifiable expression. She isn't smiling exactly and she's not really smirking either, but she's giving off an almost smug vibe all the same and Angela can't figure out what she's thinking.

Booth throws his hands up in frustration, looking almost helpless.

"Okay. Fine. I think like with most things, it depends on the guy. All right?"

Angela grins, eyeing him from head to toe.

"Fair enough," she purrs. "But I'm wondering about *this* guy in particular…"

His face falls, his features slack with panic, and he glances Brennan's way, shooting her an almost pleading look. She lets out a quiet laugh, nodding her head absently, and stands.

"We actually should really get going, Angela. We've got a case

Booth bobs his head emphatically, bolting for the door.

"Yes. Exactly. We've got a case. Later, Angela."

He's halfway down the hall by the time that she catches up to Brennan at the door, grabbing her elbow.

"Bren, honey. Why would you go and ruin all my fun? Booth all flustered and squirmy? That's way too delicious to pass up and you know it."

Brennan smiles, slow and feline, shades of the Cheshire Cat, and Angela blinks in confusion.

"He's my partner, Ange. We look out for one another."

She shrugs, unapologetic, and heads for the hallway. Angela pouts petulantly because she's Brennan's friend and that should trump partner or, at the very least, cancel it out and here she is, left high and dry.

It doesn't seem fair.

But then Brennan stops on a dime, like she's just remembered something, and turns back to her friend with an almost secretive smile. She leans in, looking now like the cat that ate the canary.

"But just for the record," she whispers confidentially. "Booth is not the kind of man who needs to be talked into eating his broccoli. He's pretty voracious about it, actually." She straightens, looking so ridiculously pleased with herself that Angela can only gape back in wonder. "See you later."

It's nearly an hour later before Angela remembers how to say anything other than 'Oh my God.'


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the first part of this story and especially to those who took the time to leave reviews. I appreciate it so much guys.

So more good, clean harmless fun. Hopefully, anyway. LOL

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Brennan manages to duck her for most of the afternoon.

Of course, Angela knows it isn't intentional, because she's out in the field with Booth and then when she finally makes it back to the lab, she's surrounded by Cam, Hodgins and Wendall, all entirely focused on the poor dead guy on their table and even Angela has to concede that finding out what happened to this guy probably should take precedence over what's going on with Brennan's sex life – even if said sex life now features Booth.

Seeley Freaking Booth in a starring role.

Good Lord.

It's not like anyone can fault Angela for being more than a little curious, more than a little interested in the whole thing. She checks the platform again, just after her usual three o'clock chocolate break, but Wendall's working alone, bent over the bones like the rest of the world doesn't exist. Her luck just might be changing, so she hightails it to Brennan's office, figuring she's got a good chance of cornering Brennan there and finally getting all the juicy, juicy details.

Because she dropped a hell of a bombshell in Angela's lap this morning and that kind of news begs further discussion.

Brennan is sleeping with her partner.

She's sleeping with Booth.

Finally.

After four long, long years.

It's like a freaking miracle.

And yet, for some reason, she didn't seem to think that such a development warranted a immediate session of girl talk with her best friend over wine and Cosmos and something really sweet with two spoons.

Of course, Angela can't let herself off the hook entirely either. She should have picked up on this. She should have sensed a change in the vibe between Brennan and Booth and put it all together. She could have confronted Brennan then and had the element of surprise on her side. Now Brennan's holding all the cards, and while she's usually refreshingly candid when it comes to these kinds of subjects, too often she's naively obtuse, like she can't even fathom why anyone – even someone who cares about her – would care about what's going on in her life.

Angela comes to a standstill on the doorstep to Brennan's office when she realizes that good doctor has given her the slip once again. Still, Angela finds herself grinning, practically squirming with anticipation, because she may not be able to corner Brennan right now, but she's found the next best thing.

Booth.

Slouched across the sofa, he sits in Brennan's office with his legs propped up on the coffee table and an issue of Sports Illustrated opened in his lap. He is utterly unsuspecting, and though Brennan tried to protect him earlier, now he's utterly defenseless as well.

Because Angela's going to get her answers – no matter how uncomfortable it might be for the parties involved.

"I'm really disappointed in you, Booth," she announces as she saunters into the room. "Because I've always thought of us as the most normal people around here…"

He looks up, his brow furrowed adorably.

"Well, Cam too, I guess," she continues. "But she's kind of a late-comer to the party so…"

Booth frowns, probably because he hates when people don't get right to the point, but she merely smiles back at him, even if she's enjoying this all a little more than she should.

"Yeah," he says crankily. "And?"

"And," she enunciates carefully. "I expect you to understand how these things work. I expect you to get that when things happen - you know, big, monumental things, things that people have been waiting years for - you share the news. Because that's what normal people do. They share the news with their friends." She sits down across from him, narrowing her eyes pointedly as something occurs to her. "Unless you're ashamed or something. Which, for the record, would be utterly ridiculous… and unforgivable."

Booth shifts forward on the sofa, his expression growing increasingly sour.

"What the hell are you talking about, Angela?"

"Apparently you're a big fan of broccoli. That's what I'm talking about."

He stares back at her blankly, like he honestly has no idea what she's talking about, and she wonders if this is all an act. He's trained to hold back, trained to work undercover and obscure the truth. Unlike Brennan who exhibits an almost pathological tendency to tell the truth, Booth is more than comfortable with skating around it, twisting it for a good cause.

Angela has no doubt that he would consider his relationship with Brennan a good cause.

"Yeah," he says after a moment, almost warily, like he just might realize that he's confessing more to a fondness for veggies. "I like broccoli. Especially if it's covered in cheese sauce or a really-"

Angela breaks out in a fit of giggles, shaking her head.

"Wow. I never figured you'd be so kinky..."

Booth frowns again and he does this squinty thing with eyes that only makes laugh harder.

"Okay. Now I'm totally lost. What's so interesting about the fact that I like broccoli?"

Angela practically springs out of her chair, surprising Booth, who falls back against the sofa cushions like he might fear for his life.

"It's not just interesting, Booth," she declares. "It's the most interesting thing I've heard in years. Because in this case, broccoli isn't broccoli. It's code for going down on my best friend like there's no freaking tomorrow!"

That's all it takes to send Booth into a spastic fit, shushing her while simultaneously whipping his head toward the door to check and see if anyone's passing by to overhear.

"Jesus," he hisses. "Would you keep your voice down?"

"Why? You saving all the hot details for your letter to Penthouse Forum?"

He leaps to his feet, pacing in agitation just in front of Brennan's desk.

"It's called decorum, okay? This is a place of business. We're at work. Have a little respect."

Angela laughs again because this is more fun than she even anticipated.

"You know…" she muses, leaning back in her chair to watch him weave his back and forth path across the carpet. "Brennan's never really concerned herself with decorum before. And yet here she is, keeping something this major from me. Her best friend. That's got to be your influence, Booth." He looks over at her, frowning. "I mean, usually by now, I'd know everything – locations, positions, anatomical wonders…"

Booth is totally wearing his panic face now, with his red cheeks and damp forehead. He glances toward the door again, like he's hoping someone might pass by and save him somehow. He looks a lot like the suspects he's usually putting the squeeze on, Angela thinks, and if he could call for a lawyer to get him out of this mess, she's pretty sure he would.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on your point of view – it's going to take a hell of a lot more than a lawyer to deter Angela.

Still, she manages to refrain from gleefully rubbing her hands together.

She's not entirely insensitive.

"How long has this been going on?" she asks. "That's really what I want to know. Because I haven't noticed anything different with you two and it kills me to think that this could have been going on under my nose for weeks and I didn't pick up on it. It's impossible, really. I mean, I totally have a radar when it comes to these things…"

Booth stops his pacing and takes a deep breath, getting himself under control. When he looks over at her, he is stubbornly blank-faced and she realizes they've gotten to the point where he's going to try to stonewall her. She leans back against the cushions, crossing her arms against her chest.

She can be just as stubborn as he can.

"Look," he says, almost patiently. "I've got no clue what you're talking about. You got this crazy idea in your head because of that stupid conversation this morning and now you're running wild with it. I'm not about to indulge your-"

"She pretty much told me, Booth," Angela says. "Without, you know, *telling* me."

He drops his hands to his hips.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means she said you were a big, enthusiastic fan of broccoli." She resists the urge to wink at him, knowing that might very well push him over the edge and as fun as that might, she still hopes to get a confirmation out of him. "And it was pretty damn obvious that she was talking from personal experience."

Booth's jaw clenches, like he's been asked to chew glass, but he eventually nods.

"With broccoli being…"

He gestures with his hand, making small circles in front of him, and Angela grins.

"Yup."

"Well, then you should go talk to her," he says, sounding angry or disappointed or hurt – Angela's not sure which. "I mean, obviously she's a lot more comfortable sharing the intimate details of her personal life than I am. I mean, God forbid you want to keep private things private… What a crazy idea, right? I guess Bones doesn't think it's a big deal but-"

"Honey!" Angela laughs kindly, reaching out to pat his arm. "Take it as a compliment. That is one damn satisfied woman and she's dying to share. That's how girls are with their friends." He looks away, his posture still rigid, and she sighs. "The only reason she's held back this long is out of respect for you, you know. For your feelings."

He lifts his head, meeting her eyes.

"She said that?"

The look in his eyes, so hopeful and vulnerable, is enough to melt a heart of a stone, and Angela is nothing but a big old softie so she's nearly in a puddle at his feet.

"She didn't have to. I know her, Booth. I'm her best friend."

He considers this for a moment, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. He doesn't have to nod or say he understands because Angela knows that like her, Booth's faith is limitless – at least when it comes to the people he cares about. He wets his lip, letting out a long, slow breath.

"Yeah, well, you're still gonna have to talk to her," he says. "Because I've got a case to solve and I'm not about to waste time gossiping with you, all right?"

Angela smiles.

"See, it's not really gossip if you're directly involved. Then it's just sharing the details of your life."

Booth nearly grins now, his eyes bright.

"I don't share. Ask Sweets."

"But what if I ask Bren?" Angela teases. "What do you think she'll have to say?"

He huffs out a low breath, and she's not sure if it's a reluctant laugh or a frustrated sigh. He shakes his head, heading for the door without as much as a backwards glance. She laughs again, settling back in the chair to wait for Brennan.

She'll get her answers. One way or another.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Again, a big thank you to everyone who's reading along and taking the time to review. You're all fantastic.

There's a slight change in tone with this installment and Angela's nowhere to be found (don't worry – she'll be back!) but things are moving along. I hope. LOL

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He tries to keep a low profile for the rest of afternoon and evening, figuring if Angela can't find him, then she can't give him the third degree. Bones will find him if she's got any news regarding the case, like an ID for the victim or cause of death or anything basically.

They probably aren't even at square one yet.

But it's late now, almost eleven, and while he's given Angela the slip for most of the day, Bones has done the same to him, save for a thirty second conversation over the skeleton in question near dinner time, and he's starting to get antsy. He finds her on the deserted platform, hunched over what looks like a microscope on steroids. It's dark and quiet all around her, but she's oblivious as usual, so focused on her work that she could be the only person left alive on earth and it wouldn't matter.

"Anything?" he asks, coming up the steps.

She looks up, not seeming the least bit surprised that he's there.

"Nothing concrete yet," she says. She looks him up and down, no doubt taking in his rumpled, worn appearance. "I told you that you should go home. Get some sleep. I'll call if anything turns up."

He moves closer, standing just behind her and peering over her shoulder like he might actually be able to make sense of what she's looking at. He turns his attention to her then, with her head bent and hair pulled back so the long graceful line of her neck is visible, and he somehow manages to refrain from stroking his fingers against that soft patch of pale skin. He's brought her tea because he knows that she often needs a little dose of caffeine to recharge her batteries at this time of night but she prefers it in the form of tea, not coffee, with just a little bit of raw sugar mixed in. He also knows that whenever possible, she prefers to drink out of china or ceramic as opposed to cardboard cups, so he slides a mug onto the tabletop beside her, watching as her fingers instinctively curl around the handle.

He knows so many things about her, he thinks. So many silly, insignificant little things. He knew them long before they started sleeping together and he imagines he'll always know them, from now until he stops knowing anything. His knowledge of her goes too deep to ever be lost.

"Didn't seem fair," he tells her. "Me home in my nice comfy bed while you're here burning the midnight oil…"

She shrugs.

"Suit yourself."

It makes him laugh, the way she's utterly unaffected by small gestures of thoughtfulness or consideration. He thinks that another woman might be touched, might offer up a trembling smile and a sweet kiss in gratitude. But then he barely remembers other women so he might have that all wrong. He doesn't know anymore.

He watches her again, tucking her hair behind her ear and cocking her head in concentration, and he knows he wouldn't want to change a thing about her.

Nothing.

"So…" he says, stepping even closer. "I hear you told Angela that I like broccoli…"

Bones barely reacts, adjusting a knob on her microscope and squinting just a bit harder.

"What?"

"You know. *Broccoli.*"

He feels only slightly ridiculous, using broccoli like it's a dirty word, but then Bones looks up at him, understanding dawning in her pale eyes, and he's too distracted to care.

"Oh. Yes. I did," she says simply. "But I was extremely vague. I literally told her that you liked broccoli. She'd made an earlier allusion to men viewing cunnilingus as broccoli that had to be endured in order to get dessert, so the implication was clear but I did not provide any details or even directly reference you and I and any sex act that-"

"I get it, Bones."

She swivels her chair around, facing him. She studies him with what looks like curiosity, the same theoretical interest that colors her eyes when she studies a skull.

"Are you angry?" she asks. "Angela is a close friend and it's generally considered socially acceptable for women to share these sorts of details with their peers. It's no different than if you were in the locker room with your hockey teammates and told them about my fondness for frottage as foreplay or using your handcuffs during sex. I wouldn't be angry or –"

Booth snorts, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon."

"Why?" She cocks her head, thinking. "Is it because of Wendall? I suppose it would be awkward for him to hear about my sexual predilections given that I am his superior and have considerable sway regarding the future of his career…"

"It's not because of Wendall," Booth sighs. "Not really."

"Then why?"

He leans back against the table behind him, lifting his shoulders tiredly.

"Because I just think that what happens between us is private. It's just between us, and I don't want to go sharing it with everyone else that we know."

She furrows her brow, and he knows that she's trying to understand him, trying to follow his line of thinking as best she can.

"It's not as if we're asking them to join us while we're in the middle of intercourse. It's still just between us. We're just discussing it with the people in our lives."

He nods, trying to return the favor and see her point of view. She's right, he knows. It's normal to talk about these kinds of things with friends. Hell, it's normal to acknowledge that these kinds of things are happening in the first place. But he thinks of everything they've gone through to get to this point, all the time that was wasted, and it's tough not to want to guard what they have with his life, keep it safe from the crazy, chaotic world around them.

"Is there a reason that you don't want anyone to know?" she asks, and it's one of those rare times that Bones sounds unsure, tentative. "Are you uncomfortable with the idea that others might know you're in an intimate relationship with me?"

It kills him that she might think, however fleetingly, that he's ashamed or embarrassed of her. God, if she only knew. If she only knew how she makes him feel – like there must be something special about him if she's willing to waste her time with him – there wouldn't be room for a single doubt.

"No," he tells her emphatically. "No. Of course not, Bones." He crouches down in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I just think… you know, it's all pretty complicated. It's complicated… and we're trying to find our way with all of this and if we add other people to the mix, you know, with their opinions and their issues, it's going to make it that much harder. I thought it might be easier if we just kept it between the two of us for a while, till we figured some stuff out. That's all."

She nods, smiling in a shy, almost coy way.

"I think I understand what you're getting at. It's just difficult for me. I am a very candid person. I don't really know how to censor myself."

"I know," Booth laughs. "Believe me."

Her grin deepens, becomes even sexier, even more mysterious.

"And I very much enjoy having sex with you, you know."

He laughs again, wondering how a forensics lab could possibly be one of his favorite places on earth.

"Yeah, well, the feeling's more than mutual."

She shifts forward in her chair, so her knees are pressed against his chest and her hands curl over his shoulders.

"It's more than that, too," she whispers. "I just…" She shakes her head, as if for once, her brain can't quite process what she's experiencing. "I enjoy *you* very much. That's all. It seems natural to want to share those feelings with someone. With Angela. I don't know…"

He rubs his hands along her thighs, still smiling.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I just… You know she's going to be pumping you for each and every detail. And she's not gonna give it a rest until you tell her everything…"

Bones laughs and he's convinced it's the sexiest sound he's ever heard.

"Are you worried about what I might say?" she teases. "Because you have no reason, I assure you. You'll hold up to the even the most severe scrutiny extremely well."

He leans in closer, thumbs running along the sides of throat, and grins.

"Good to know."

"So really, when you think about it… this is all your fault," she says, as flirty as she gets. "Perhaps if you weren't so impressive, I wouldn't be so eager to share the details and Angela's powers of persuasion would go for naught."

"Right," he whispers, pressing his mouth to jaw. "It's all my fault. Sure."

She nods, her eyes half shut.

"I'm glad you see things my way for once…"

He kisses her, because he's spent years thinking about tasting that smart mouth and it's too much of a temptation not to now that he's actually allowed. And it doesn't matter that they're in the lab and anyone could conceivably walk in despite the late hour because she tastes sweet, like her tea, and her body is hot everywhere it touches his and it's been nearly nineteen hours since he last touched her.

"Hurry up," he tells her once they pull apart. "Get me an ID so we can get the hell out of here…"

She smiles and he's tempted to kiss her again.

"Got a little craving for broccoli?" she teases.

He laughs, pushing himself back to his feet.

"I don't know. You think you can talk me into it?"

Bones doesn't responds, just shoots him a sly little grin that says she knows very well she won't have to but even she did, he'd give in in the end.

He always does for her.

Booth leans back against the exam table once more, watching her. She's right, so he doesn't even think about arguing.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm a broken record at this point, I know, but thank you so much to everyone who's reading along. Extra special thanks to those who take the time to leave reviews. I appreciate it so much.

Angela's back and probably by conclusion of this installment, you'll feel like we've reached an ending, but there's actually more coming. We're just changing direction a bit.

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"So… I totally tortured Booth yesterday."

Angela announces this gleefully as she flops down on the sofa in Brennan's office. It's barely eight fifteen and her friend is already hard at work, analyzing images on her computer. She has it on good authority from Jamie, the morning security guard, that Tony, the graveyard shift guy, didn't see Brennan – and Booth, Jamie slyly added – leave the lab until almost two o'clock last night. Now, a mere six hours later, it's as if Brennan never left. Her work ethic is the stuff of legends, and Angela can only watch with admiration since her morning coffee hasn't kicked in just yet and she's of no use to anyone.

Well, she is alert enough to discuss the sudden and dramatic turn in Brennan and Booth's relationship. She certainly doesn't need a jolt for caffeine for that.

"Did you hear me?" she asks when Brennan fails to acknowledge her presence. "I totally accosted Booth yesterday. He turned like five shades of red and started pacing around your desk like he was square dancing or something…"

Finally Brennan reacts, nodding absently, her eyes still fixed on her computer screen.

"Yes. He mentioned something about that."

Angela laughs.

"I bet he did. Did he also tell you that this is really all your fault?"

This catches Brennan's full attention, and she looks up, regarding Angela quizzically.

"My fault?" she says. "How am I responsible for you cornering Booth and making him uncomfortable? You know as well as I do how sensitive he is regarding his private life. And you've enjoyed prodding him about it long before I was involved in any capacity. I fail to see how I'm responsible in any way."

"How are you responsible?" Angela says with a smile. "Come on, Bren. It's obvious. First of all, you start shacking up with the hottest FBI agent this side of Fox Mulder without mentioning a word of it to your best friend even though she's been…"

"Shacking up? I don't know what that means. And who's Fox Mulder?"

"…dying for this very thing to happen for years. Then, when you finally do drop the bombshell, you only do so in metaphorical terms, without providing the slightest bit of detail for inquiring minds, and saunter off like you've just told me that you bought a new pair of shoes. Then, you're conveniently tied up with a set of bones all freaking afternoon and night so I can't drag anymore info out of you, leaving me with no choice but to confront the boy toy and leave him…"

"Boy toy? Booth is hardly a boy, Angela."

"…all redfaced and twitchy in the corner. And yes, sweetie, I've noticed that Booth's all man, but if want me to refrain from killing you in a fit of envy and jealousy, it's probably best to stop emphasizing his many physical attributes."

Brennan cocks her head, turning her chair slightly to face Angela directly. Her expression is dubious at best, and yet Angela notices the brightness of her eyes, the bloom of color over her cheeks, the way everything about her seems uncharacteristically soft and glowy – and after only a few hours of sleep too.

Yeah. Somebody definitely got lucky last night.

"I still fail to see how this is my fault," she says.

Angela throws her hands up in frustration.

"God. Didn't you listen to a word I just said?"

Brennan nods.

"I did. But frankly, I don't find your argument all that compelling."

Angela watches as she turns back to her computer, scanning the images on her monitor once more. Brennan's all about work again, and Angela can only sigh, pushing herself up from the sofa to move toward the desk. She tilts her head, studying her friend as if a new angle might bring enlightenment.

"Bren, sweetie. Why didn't you tell me about you and Booth?" She keeps her voice low and soft, with no accusation or judgment in it all. "Why wouldn't you share something so amazing and important with me? You two have been dancing around one another for years now and I've been rooting like crazy for you guys to finally get a clue. You had to know I'd be happy for you. You had to know I'd excited for you."

For a moment, Brennan doesn't move. She stares straight ahead at her computer, shoulders rigid, and Angela has to wonder if she's said the wrong thing. It's hard to tell with Brennan sometimes because sometimes she's all Teflon, nothing penetrating at all, and others she's listening harder than anyone knows, feeling it all more than anyone knows.

She looks up eventually, and Angela's not sure what she was expecting exactly but the giddy, almost girlish smile that she's treated to is certainly not it.

"I thought about telling you, Ange. I *wanted* to tell you," she says. "But then I considered the fact that Booth is an intensely private person and that he probably wouldn't like it if I shared intimate details regarding what has transpired between us, so I thought it best to wait until he was slightly more comfortable. It was nothing personal, I assure you."

Angela nods emphatically. She perches herself on the edge of Brennan's desk, making herself comfortable.

"I knew it!" she declares. "That's exactly what I told Booth."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, he seemed a little upset that you'd told me about the whole broccoli thing so I-"

"Must we persist in using this ridiculous broccoli euphemism?" Brennan asks. "We are rational, intelligent people. Surely we can use the term 'cunnilingus' without feeling self conscious about it?"

Angela wrinkles her nose.

"It's so clinical, though. Can't we say that Booth likes going down on you? Is that clear enough for you?"

"I suppose. It is slang but…" Brennan says. She grins suddenly, like a child with a secret. "And he does. Very much so. In fact, in reference to your assertion that women always have to ask men to perform oral sex, the first time we were together sexually, there wasn't even a chance for me to ask. He made his feelings on the subject extremely clear."

"Oh, I bet he did," Angela laughs. She leans in just bit, her only concession to privacy. "And how he is? I mean, enthusiasm is great but if there's no technique to back it up then…"

She shakes her head sadly.

"There is technique," Brennan says, and there's an almost wistful tone to her voice. "He is incredibly skilled. The muscles in his tongue must be extremely well-developed because it's quite powerful."

It occurs to Angela, how surreal this conversation is, how disorienting it is to have a long-standing curiosity satisfied (because it's easy to look at Seeley Booth and decide he's sex on a stick, but she's been around the block enough times to know that looks only mean so much between the sheets.), and she wonders if Brennan felt the same way at that pivotal moment, when she stood across from Booth in some dark room and realized that everything between them was about to change.

It's almost overwhelming.

Almost.

She's still got plenty of curiosity that needs satisfying.

"What about the other stuff?" she asks. "What about the main event?"

Brennan laughs.

"Booth was right. He said you'd press for details."

"Well, he's a very smart boy," Angela says with a smile. "So? I'm not asking for measurements or anything… though if you want to share that information, I'm more than willing to listen."

Stubbornly, Brennan shakes her head.

"Angela, come on. I already told you that Booth views the things that we do together as something very personal and private. I want to try to respect that… and I've already said too much already."

"Oh, sweetie, please. Just a little something. Just a tidbit." She grins ferally. "Like he is strictly a missionary man or does he like it when you're on top? Oooh, knowing how aggressive he is, I bet he likes to take you from behind. He does, doesn't he? Booth likes to bend you over whatever flat surface he can find and go to town…"

The secretive, little smile returns to Brennan's lips, though it seems like she's doing her best to fight it.

"He does enjoy that, actually," she confesses. "The other night, he did it on the kitchen counter while I was in the middle of making dinner. It was extremely stimulating. He also enjoys having sexual relations in the shower quite a bit. He especially likes it when I fellate him under the spray and-"

"Uh, Dr. Brennan?"

Both women glance toward the doorway in surprise, where Wendell Bray stands, shifting uncomfortably. He has a file folder pressed to his chest, almost like a shield, and he seems to have a difficult time making any eye contact whatsoever with his professor.

"I just wanted to let you know that I've finished cleaning the bones," he says. "What would you like me to do next?"

"Fast work," Brennan says with approval. "Check the femurs and the tibiae for any microscopic fissures. I suspect that we're missing something there."

He bobs his head.

"Sure thing, Dr. Brennan."

He scurries from the room like someone's lit a fire under him, and Brennan looks up at Angela, eyes narrowed speculatively.

"Do you think he overheard?"

Angela shrugs, unconcerned, because she's pretty sure Wendell did overhear but there's no point in telling Brennan that. She'd only corner the poor kid about it, make him feel even more awkward and uncomfortable about the whole thing. It's best for everyone if Brennan stays blissfully ignorant.

"I doubt it."

"He seemed very uneasy," Brennan says, glancing back toward the hallway where Wendell just disappeared.

"You make him nervous, sweetie. That's nothing new."

Brennan frowns.

"I make him nervous? Why? Why would I make him nervous?"

"Oh, I don't know… maybe because you have ridiculously high standards and his entire future rests in your hands. But that's just a guess."

She nods, considering this.

"I suppose that makes sense. But Booth would definitely not be happy if Wendell overheard. I am confident of that."

"I wouldn't worry about it, sweetie. Even if he did overhear anything, I seriously doubt he's going to run around telling everyone. He's not a fifteen year old girl and this isn't study hall." She laughs, shaking her head. "Honestly, he'd probably be off in a corner somewhere, trying his damnedest to rid himself of any mental images of you and Booth going at in the shower…"

"I hardly think such an image would be as traumatizing as you're suggesting," Brennan says, gathering some scans from her desk. "Booth and I both demonstrate superior bone structure and our-"

"Bren, it doesn't matter how hot your boss and her boyfriend are. You don't want to be picturing them going at it like rabbits, okay?" She rubs Brennan's arm affectionately. "This is what life is like on planet earth."

They head toward the door, and Angela finds herself thinking that this is what best friends are for: for doing the heavy lifting in rough times, sure, but to be here for moments like these, when Brennan is happy and excited and has no idea what to do with those feelings.

She watches her friend as she effortlessly slips back into professional mode, and Angela sees that that's what this has all been about – not extracting juicy details about her friend's sex life like she's reading an article from a sleazy tabloid, but sharing in the things that make her life full, happy, rich.

"I know I can trust you to be discreet regarding Booth and me," Brennan says now. "I think he knows that too. He just…"

Angela grins.

"Freaked out?"

"Yes," she agrees with a smile. "He did freak out."

Angela twines her arm with Brennan's, sighing dreamily.

"I think it's sweet. He's so protective of your relationship."

Brennan nods, smiling softly.

"Booth is a good man," she says.

"I know. I'm just glad you finally decided to do something about that fact..."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This installment is a little different. No Booth or Brennan to be seen, but as usual, it's all about them anyway.

And thanks as always for reading along. You guys are fantastic. Everyone who's in the US, enjoy the finale tonight!

--------------------------

It doesn't happen very often, but every once in a while, Hodgins gets bored with a case.

Sometimes the details are just a little too mundane or there's not much evidence that falls under his expertise or he's just had a crappy week and he remembers that Angela tastes as sweet and ripe as a peach. Soil samples and Symphyta larva just don't seem all that interesting in light of that.

He's bored now, leaning over the railing at the lab and watching the worker bees buzz around the forensics platform. He needs a vacation, he thinks. He needs a woman. He needs something interesting to happen in the next five minutes or he might just lose it. He glances over at Wendell who stands beside him with a vaguely sick look on his face, and he thinks of Zack, how after all the years together he'd gotten so good at reading the kid, at knowing when something was wrong. All the new interns, all these new kids, are more or less strangers to him, and while he thinks he likes some of them more than others, he still doesn't have any clue about what really goes on inside their heads. He likes Wendell, but he's not sure he's ready to play amateur shrink for him just yet.

Best to leave that brand of bullshit to Sweets.

Hodgins looks back down at the platform where the FBI forensics team is dropping off evidence collected from a second crime scene. He usually has no use for those guys, with their stupid jackets that seem like wannabe letterman sweaters and their astonishing lack of care when it comes to handling evidence, but there's one right now, standing back from the crowd, that catches his eye.

Well, she's young and blonde and pretty, so it's not really a surprise. She's even got a swingy little ponytail going on and he watches as it breezes back and forth behind her as she moves her head.

"Check it out," he says, elbowing Wendell.

The kid looks down and manages to zero in on the subject of interest in an instant. Guys have a sixth sense about these things.

"Something else, huh?"

Wendell nods.

"She's hot," he says automatically.

"She definitely is," Hodgins murmurs, but he's trying hard not to think of Angela and how she's in this very building, within reach, because this woman is beautiful and that's all he really needs – one beautiful woman. "I should go introduce myself," he says, and he's not sure if he's trying to convince Wendell or himself. "Ask her out…"

Wendell bobs his head again.

"You should. Why not?"

Something in Hodgins snaps and he turns to the kid in a panic.

"Why not?" he repeats frantically. "How about because I'm in the middle of the longest dry spell in my life and women are running from me when they see me coming because they're all convinced I'm just looking for some kind of rebound, despite the fact that it's been months - *months* - since Angela and I called it quits and I'm totally over all of that…"

Wendell looks taken aback by the outburst for a moment, then seems to adjust, like it's not the strangest thing he's seen at work today, and shrugs.

"Well, then there's no time like the present to get back on the horse," he says. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Hodgins smiles, eyeing the woman one more.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." He straightens up, gathering courage. "I'll just go down there, introduce myself… see if maybe she wants to come up here for some coffee. Nice and easy. Simple. Right?" He nods to himself. "Right."

But he doesn't even take a step before he sees Agent Booth striding across the platform, confident and determined. He pulls the blonde aside and she hands over an evidence bag. She smiles then and Booth pats her arm, like they know each other fairly well.

"Oh, forget it," Hodgins says sullenly. "It looks like Booth's already got dibs on her." He slumps back over the railing once more. "I should have known he was seeing somebody. He's been walking around here lately like he's a freaking rock star or something…"

Wendell snorts, shaking his head in amusement.

"You think this is funny?" Hodgins demands. "Come on, man. I'm no slouch with the ladies, but Booth's got it so much easier. I mean, first of all, he's taller than I am… and he's a freaking FBI agent. You know how much sexier women think that is than a scientist who's up to his elbows in mud and maggots all day?"

"Listen, Hodgins. I really don't think you have to worry about Agent Booth and this woman, okay?"

Hodgins narrows his eyes skeptically.

"Why not?"

"Because I just don't think Booth is interested. That's all."

"Why not?" Hodgins says, looking back as Booth strides off the platform, probably headed in the direction of Dr. Brennan's office. "Why wouldn't he be? This chick is hot."

"She is," Wendell agrees. "But I just think that… you know. I don't think he's looking for… I just don't think he's interested, all right?"

The kid seems nervous now, fidgeting anxiously and refusing to look Hodgins in the eye.

"I just don't get how you can be so sure about that," Hodgins says. "I mean, it's not like Booth is the most open person. He's not going to run around advertising the fact that he's sleeping with some forensics hottie."

Wendell laughs again, almost despite himself, and now Hodgins is really confused – and interested. He turns, facing Wendell directly, and raises his eyebrows in expectation. The kid looks antsy again, like he's realized that maybe he's given too much away. His eyes dart away from Hodgins, and he blows out a frustrated breath.

"Look, man. I'm not a gossip, all right? I just want to keep my head down and do my job, okay?"

"No one's calling you a gossip, Wendell. I just don't understand how you can be so sure about Booth and this woman. That's all."

Wendell nods, frowning.

"It's just that… I kind of overheard a conversation this morning and I really wish I hadn't but I did and now, no matter how much I try, I can't get the damn thing out of my head. It's like stuck on this loop in my head and it's a fucking nightmare…"

"O-kay," Hodgins says, utterly confused. "Who did you overhear? Booth?"

Wendell shakes his head.

"I went to Dr. Brennan's office. To let her know that I'd finished cleaning the bones."

"Okay…"

"And she was in there. Talking to Angela."

"Okay. But I'm still not seeing why you're so freaked out…"

Wendell glances over his shoulder, as if he's worried that he might be overheard. He leans in toward Hodgins, but still lowers his voice, and in that moment, he's the one who seems to have a problem with paranoia.

"They were talking about Agent Booth. About things he likes."

Hodgins laughs.

"What? Like hockey and chicken wings?"

"No," Wendall snaps. "You know. *Sex* things."

For a moment, Hodgins just stares back at him blankly, trying to make sense out of what the kid has just told him. It doesn't make any sense, though, not really, so he frowns in confusion and shakes his head.

"Wait. What? Sex things?"

Wendell bobs his head affirmatively.

"Sex things," he repeats.

"That Booth likes?"

"That's what I said," Wendell grits out irritably.

Hodgins takes a deep breath, cocks his head, and considers the information.

Nope. Still doesn't make sense.

"Okay," he says after a moment. "You probably just misunderstood. Angela's been trying to hook up Booth and Brennan for years so she's probably at it again, speculating about Booth and sex in order to pique Dr. Brennan's curiosity. That's all."

Wendell shakes his head.

"No. No. Dr. Brennan was doing most of the talking," he insists. "And she was clearly speaking from firsthand experience, okay?" He runs a hand through his hair and sighs again. "I don't know why it freaked me out so much. I mean, when I first started here, I pretty much assume they were sleeping together because … let's face it … they're all about each other. But then I realized that wasn't the case and all of you acted like it was completely normal for them to be totally in love with one and totally in denial so I guess I just sort of figured that it would never happen… but now, it obviously has and I don't know… it's just weird. Weird to hear your boss talking about her sex life. Weird to know that the guy I skate with every weekend is doing all sorts of kinky shit with her…"

The kid's rambling now and Hodgins is finding it difficult to keep up, his mind going a million miles a minute as he tries to process this information. It seems impossible that something could have happened between Booth and Brenna and no one in the lab noticed, that after years of standing back and waiting for the inevitable to finally explode in their faces, they all could have missed it.

Well, not Angela.

Of course, she's all mixed up in this.

"Wait a second," Hodgins finally says. "You're sure about this?"

Wendell crosses his arms against his chest, looking almost defiant.

"I know what I heard, man."

Hodgins nods.

"So what you're telling me is that Booth and Brennan are bumping uglies? For real? Finally? After all this time?"

"Yep."

When he laughs now, Hodgins is nearly breathless, the surprise of it all a little overwhelming – because even though it has always seemed so inevitable, enough time had passed that maybe he'd started to think it wasn't ever going to happen. They were both too stubborn and Booth was too noble and Brennan was too dense and they'd never get on the same page.

He wonders what it took to finally make that happen. Booth did have a brain tumor a few months ago, Hodgins thinks, and near death experiences have been known to make people reevaluate. But they've both been in life-and-death situations before and nothing ever changed.

What could it have been, he muses. What could finally bring four years of sexual tension to a head?

He cuffs Wendell on the arm, smiling.

"Thanks, man. You're just a wealth of information, aren't you?"

He starts to walk away, trying to figure out what exactly to do with this news, but then Wendell calls after him, sounding slightly panicked.

"Hey, Hodgins! Don't go telling everyone what I said. I really didn't mean to say anything… and I don't want Dr. Brennan or Booth to-"

"No worries, Wendell. My lips are sealed."

But he's utterly insincere and he suspects the kid knows it. It's virtually impossible to sit on this kind of information so he probably won't. He smiles as he jogs down the stairs because it's almost lunch time and his day just got a whole lot more interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - The mojo might be a little off with this one because I'm still kind of reeling from the finale. LOL

Thank you again to everyone who's reading along. You're all wonderful!

------------------

These days, Cam feels like she's running on empty.

She's got a teenager at home, who always testing the limits with cigarettes and tiny t-shirts that expose equal parts belly and breasts and boys with fast cars who lay on the horn instead of ever coming to the door. It makes Cam feel old, to be the warden, to be the one enforcing the rules and shaking her finger like a school marm. Worse, she remembers how ancient her mother seemed when she was sixteen, how hopelessly out of touch and uncool, and she worries that Michelle sees her the same way.

The thought annoys and exhausts her all at the same time.

And then she comes to work in the morning, where all too often she feels like a babysitter, like if she looks away for just a moment, they'll be bouncing frozen turkeys and smashing watermelons all over the damn place, with wild abandon. Dr. Brennan is out in the field with Booth too often to chaperone, and somehow Cam thinks she'd encourage it all even if she were, all in the name of scientific inquiry or some bullshit.

Days like today, when there's little usable evidence in their case and only Brennan still seems interested in the work, are the worst. Booth dropped by earlier, ranting his frustration all over her office, and she'd had to dig through her bag afterward for a Tylenol, the ache behind her eyes like a living breathing thing.

She needs a damn vacation.

Somewhere hot and tropical. Where cabana boys bring you pina coladas whenever you snap your fingers and the blue, blue ocean lulls you to sleep at night.

That's what she needs.

So when she looks up from the mountain of paperwork falling in an avalanche across her desk and sees Jack Hodgins sauntering into her office, looking way too pleased with himself for her liking, she's ready to reach for the Tylenol bottle again.

"Any progress on the sediment from the right tibia?" she asks briskly.

"Not yet," he says in his maddeningly frequent know-it-all tone.

He's excited about something, she can tell, and if it's not the work, she shudders to think of what it might be.

"Is there something else then?"

He cocks his head, like he's considering her question very seriously.

"I was looking for Angela, actually. She wasn't in her office so I thought she might be here …"

"Nope. I haven't seen her all morning actually."

He rubs his chin, thoughtfully, like he's contemplating something again and Cam's not sure that she likes Jack Hodgins thinking that hard about anything – it usually means trouble.

Well, more trouble than usual.

"Hey," he says, and she notices that there's an almost gleeful tone to his voice. "Have you noticed anything different about Booth and Brennan lately?"

It's not the question that Cam was expecting and she leans back in her chair, annoyance slipping away as she considers the subject more seriously.

"Different about Booth and Brennan?" she repeats. "Like what? This morning, I heard them bickering about some intuitive leap he was making regarding the Franklin case, with Booth pointing out that science and rationalism hadn't yielded anything particularly useful either, and then they went to the dinner to get some coffee. Pretty much your standard morning for them…"

Hodgins grins, like she's told a particularly funny joke.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"What does that mean?" she asks.

He smirks again

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he says. "It was just an observation…"

It's clear from the way he smirks afterward, from the way he crosses his arms against his chair with an air of superiority that it's a hell of a lot more than that, and Cam grits her teeth, trying to resist the urge to actually snarl at him.

"Okay, Dr. Hodgins," she sighs, as tolerantly as she can manage. "You caught me on a really bad day and I'm kind of running out of patience here. We're in the middle of a pretty high profile murder investigation so unless you think there's been some change in Booth and Brennan's relationship that affects how they work together, I think we're done here…"

She stops herself from actually shooing him from the room, which is probably a mistake, because instead of heading for the door, Hodgins perches himself on the corner of her desk, smiling yet again. She nearly flings her pen to the desk in frustration.

"Actually," he says, drawing out the word for dramatic effect. "I have it on pretty good authority that their relationship is doing just fine these days. Better than fine, even."

"Okay. Great. What is your point then? Because you know… middle of murder case. No solid evidence. Booth getting cranky. Not exactly the recipe for a good day and-"

"I've got Grade A, choice gossip here and you're brushing me off? Think about that, Dr. Saroyan. Do you really want to do that?"

"Gossip?" she says. "That's what this is about? Get back to work, Dr. Hodgins. If I feel the need for some juicy gossip, I'll pick up a copy of The Star at the check-out line tonight…"

But Hodgins still doesn't move, his smile as smug as ever. She could fight him, she knows, but she thinks ignoring him is probably the best tactic. He'll get bored eventually and go-

"They finally did it."

She doesn't even glance up from her paperwork.

"Who?" she nearly groans. "And what?"

"Booth and Brennan," he says immediately. "And It."

She whips her head up, his mood suddenly making sense.

"It?" she repeats incredulously.

He nods.

"Yep. *It.*"

Cam hopes that her mouth is hanging open and that her eyes aren't as wide as saucers – because damn if Hodgins wasn't right.

This is the juiciest gossip around this place in a long time.

A long, long time.

Maybe ever.

"Dr. Brennan told you this?"

Hodgins shakes his head, still wearing that infuriating smile.

"She told Angela and Angela told you?"

He shakes his head again.

"Booth told you?"

"Are you serious?" Hodgins snorts. "That guy would sooner take out a billboard on I-95 about it then confide in me."

Cam lifts her shoulders in confusion.

"Then who?" she demands. "Who told you?"

His grins widens, if that's at all possible, and she realizes anew how much he's enjoying this.

"Wendell."

Her brow furrows in disbelief.

"Wendell?"

Hodgins nods once more.

"How the hell would Wendell know something like this?" Cam says. "Did he walk in on them or something?"

"That would have been awkward, huh?" Hodgins laughs. "I probably should be a friend, let them know about that little used supply closet near Middle Eastern studies. And where all the security cameras are… "

"So Wendell didn't walk in on them?"

"No. Apparently he overheard Brennan and Angela discussing Booth's likes and dislikes in the bedroom. I'm guessing it didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination since the poor kid's suffering from PTSD as a result…"

"He's sure? He didn't just hear Angela being Angela and make some assumptions or something?"

"Oh, he's certain," Hodgins says with a smirk. "Extremely so."

Cam shakes her head, not sure how to make sense of all of this.

"Why wouldn't they just tell us?" she wonders. "Seeley and I have been friends for years. We were more than that a time or two. I don't know why…" She trails off, her cheeks warming. "I mean, he couldn't possibly think I'd be hurt. Not after all this time."

Hodgins shrugs.

"Well, apparently they didn't tell any of us, so…" He laughs. "Except Angela. But then I suspect she probably dragged it out of them."

"Why are they keeping it a secret, though? Did they think we'd all freak out? Make too big a deal over it?"

"Wait. So we're not going to hang a big banner that says 'Finally' over the platform and applaud the next time they show up together?"

Hodgins laughs at his own stupid joke, but Cam shakes her head.

"I don't get it," she says. "I mean, how long did they think they could keep this from us? We'd find out eventually so-"

"We did," Hodgins corrects. "We found out."

"What's the point?" She shakes her head again, pushing her chair away from the desk. "That's it."

"What?" he asks, swiveling around to watch her head for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Right to the source."

.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – As always, a big thank you to everyone who's reading along. You guys rock.

You know, I think Wendell may have always been my favorite intern but after the finale, I've got an epic crush on him. LOL I had to expand his part in the story just a bit because of it.

-----------------------

This is one of those days when he thinks he probably just should have stayed in bed.

They're no closer to catching their killer than they were yesterday morning, or the day before that, and every minute that passes without a real lead makes him feel more and more like a failure. He doesn't know how many more times he can talk to the victim's family and friends before they start to think it too.

Staying under the covers would have been a much more appealing option.

Particularly since his very favorite forensic anthropologist was tangled up in said covers with him and she definitely guaranteed more fun that a dismembered murder victim - that was damn sure.

She's not on the platform when he storms back into the lab, but he tells himself that's just as well. He should get his mood in check before he sees her again – it's best for everyone involved.

Of course, if they were different people, maybe he could suggest sneaking off for a quickie to blow off a little steam. But Bones is too consumed in her work right now for such indulgences and he's a little too leery of getting caught with his pants down around the squints to really entertain the idea.

It does make for a nice fantasy, though, as he jogs up to the lounge for a few minutes of peace and quiet. Wendell's up there, holding a cup of coffee and looking vaguely disturbed. Booth doesn't really mind, though, because he likes Wendell and, while he'll never tell Bones, he's rooting pretty hard for him to get the position as her assistant. He's a good kid, worked hard for everything he's gotten and seems to inhabit the real world more than most of her interns.

And he doesn't ever feel like the kid's speaking Greek whenever they have a conversation.

"Hey, Wendell."

The kid's head jerks up in surprise and there is vaguely panicked glaze to his eyes when he looks at Booth.

"Agent Booth. Hey. How's it going?"

"It's going," Booth says wryly. "Have you seen Dr. Brennan around?"

Wendell immediately looks away, fidgeting in his seat and tapping his fingers against his coffee cup.

"Um, the last I saw she was in her office with Angela… they were having a pretty intense conversation. I mean, that's what it looked like anyway. You know. From the hall."

Booth laughs humorlessly.

"I'll bet," he says. "I think I'll hang out here a little longer. Make sure the coast is clear."

He takes a seat opposite Wendell and leans back. God only knows what kind of things Angela's dragging out of Bones now. Ignorance is bliss, though, so if he sits here and pretends that she's not telling her friend that he asked her to wear the Wonder Woman costume a few weeks back, then she's not and he can get through the damn day.

"Well, it was earlier this morning," Wendell tells him. "So I bet they're probably finished by now…."

Booth shakes his head.

"Trust me, man. It's best that I not take any chances."

Wendell seems to be contemplating the steam rising from his coffee cup, his gaze fixed firmly downward, but he nods a bit, like he just might feel Booth's pain. There is some consolation in that, Booth thinks. That he's not the only man cowered by the thought of what two women might spend their time talking about. Because really, the possibilities are fucking terrifying.

He shakes his head, refusing to even go there.

"Hey, you see any of the Mets-Phillies' game last night?" he asks Wendell. "Howard and that monster shot off Rodriquez in the tenth? I rewound that beauty on Tivo a couple of times…"

Wendell nods again, finally looking up.

"Yeah. Great game. The Phillies are still a couple of games back, though, right?"

Booth shrugs.

"Doesn't really matter. The Mets will collapse eventually. They always do."

Wendell nods once more, but he seems pretty distracted and Booth wonders if he's feeling the pressure of the case as well. Bones can be pretty demanding so he's probably got his hands full right now. Booth sighs in frustration, tipping his head back.

For all their sakes, he wants this damn case finished. Pronto.

Across the table, Wendell clears his throat and Booth opens an eye to look over at him.

"Um…" the kid says, fidgeting again. "You know, I think Dr. Brennan's great. Really. She's brilliant and she's a great teacher and I've learned so much from her. I just… she's great…"

Booth shifts forward in his chair and opens both eyes, frowning in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

Wendell's eyes widen, like he's said something maybe he shouldn't have, and he practically strangles his coffee cup between his hands.

"No. Nothing I didn't mean…" he stutters. "It's just that, you know…" He runs a hand over his hair and forces a smile. "Dr. Brennan's really great. That's all."

Booth cocks his head, studying the kid – he's slightly flushed and there just might be a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Maybe he's got a thing for Bones. It's not uncommon for students to get the hots for their teachers, and in this case, who could blame the kid when Bones looks the way she does. Booth can't exactly blame Wendell if he's developed a little crush, but he can't figure out for the life of him when the kid would tell him about it.

It's kind of strange, and Booth has never really seen Wendell as strange before.

"She is," he says warily. "But I don't know what –"

"Booth!"

Cam's trotting up the stairs then, her heels tapping out an annoying, syncopated rhythm, and just like that, Wendell bolts from his seat, leaving his coffee behind.

"Gotta go," he says, breezing past Cam without so much as glance. "See ya later."

Booth watches him go, utterly confused about what's transpired. He shakes his head as Cam leans against the table.

"You know, I always used to think that kid was pretty normal," he tells her. "Now I'm not so sure…"

"Wendell?" Cam asks distractedly. "He's fine." She waves her hand dismissively. "Listen. There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

He nods.

"You guys find something?"

He leaves out 'finally' because that would probably be pretty rude and he knows Cam doesn't respond well to that kind of thing. It's how he feels, though, which is why he's so cranky to begin with.

"No, no," Cam says. "We're still waiting for Hodgins to get back to us on the sediment and Brennan's still looking at the cut marks on the cervical vertebrae. We should know something soon."

Booth bobs his head.

"Okay. Good."

She nods back at him, but she is utterly distracted, tapping her foot almost impatiently. He notices then how frazzled she seems, almost as off as Wendell was, and he frowns.

"What's up then?" he asks. "You okay?"

Cam crosses her arms against her chest, letting out a long, slow breath, and tilts her head. She's looking at him like she's trying to get a good read on him, like she doesn't quite trust him – it's the cop in her, he supposes, but he hates being looked at like a suspect so he crosses his arms against his chest and looks back at her as blandly as he can manage.

"I'm just…" Her tone is soft, almost solicitous. "Look, this is about you. How are *you*?"

He grimaces.

She sounds like his fucking high school guidance counselor.

"I'm fine, Cam," he says. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She laughs, high and nervous, and taps the toe of shoe against the floor again.

What the hell is wrong with everyone today? That's the real question.

"I don't know," she says. "No reason. I just thought that maybe there was something you might want to talk about so…"

She gestures aimlessly with her hand and he squints at her hard, like that might help him understand what she's going on about.

"No," he tells her emphatically. "There really isn't. I don't know what…"

He trails off when it suddenly hits him, what has her so rattled, why she seems so concerned.

Nearly three months ago, he had a brain tumor cut out of his head. He's been back in fighting shape for so long now that it almost seems like it didn't happen, like he hadn't had life-threatening surgery, and for him, it's easy to act that way. Because he feels good, his scans have all been clear since, and his memories of the surgery and recovery are hazy at best – there's really not much for him to dwell on.

He knows, though, that it's not the same for everyone else. For the people who care about him, like Bones and Cam and the others, it probably isn't that easy. They remember all too well sitting in hospital waiting rooms and seeing him hooked up to monitors and machines and waiting for him to open his eyes again.

Those aren't the kind of memories that are easy to shake.

So he smiles softly, patiently, and shrugs.

"I'm fine, Camille. Really. Went to my neurologist just last week and got a clean bill of health. So you can quit worrying, all right? Seeley Booth is just fine."

Cam nods, returning his smile.

"That's great," she says. "That's great news. But actually… that's not really what I was talking about…"

Just like that, he's confused again and his brow furrows as he wonders again what the hell she could possibly be referring to."

"It's just that sometimes friend have big things happen in their lives," Cam says. "Good things. Happy things. But they feel like they can't tell their friends about them because they're worried it'll make their friends feel bad or uncomfortable. But the thing is… they can tell their friends. They should. Because when good things happen, you should share them with the people who care about you. Because they'll be happy for you…"

He shakes his head, almost laughing.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She drops her hands to her hips, regarding him almost sternly.

"What am I talking about?" she repeats. "I'll tell you what I'm talking about… you and Brennan. Finally ending that ridiculous 'We're only partners, why would anyone think we're anything more' charade. That would be what I'm talking about."

He stiffens, panicking immediately. They're alone in the lounge, but he looks around frantically to make sure there's no one coming up the stairs who might overhear.

"Who told you that?" he demands. "Where would you get an idea like that? I mean-"

"It doesn't matter who told me," Cam says. "What matters is that you didn't tell me yourself. That apparently you had no intention of telling me. Of telling any of us."

"Camille, listen. I don't know why-"

"Don't even bother denying it, Seeley. I can see it all over your face. I'm actually kicking myself for not noticing it sooner…"

He lowers his head, jaw clenched tightly. He feels cornered and annoyed and he resents having to defend himself when it comes to anything having to do with Bones. Cam may be his friend, but he doesn't owe her all the secrets of his heart and he doesn't know why she'd even ask.

Bones would probably tell him he's being irrational. There's no need to be so secretive about the whole thing, she'd said. It's not a big deal.

But the thing is, it is a big deal. It's the biggest deal and he doesn't really care if no one else can understand that.

"It's my life," he tells Cam, his voice low and serious. "It's *our* life. And I don't see why we need to broadcast all the details of it at work. It's private."

"Oh, give me a break," she laughs. "We're not just the people you work with and you know it."

He meets her gaze stubbornly, refusing to budge. But she's also been able to read him well, so she pulls out the chair next to him and sits down, ready to try a different tact.

"Why are you hiding it, Seeley?" she asks gently. "Why are you sneaking around like you're having an affair with your secretary or something? There's not a person who knows you both who'd begrudge you a moment's happiness. Why are you acting like this is something you need to keep a secret?"

He shakes his head immediately.

"That's not what… that's not why we're keeping it quiet." He blows out a frustrated breath. "It took a really long time for us to get to this point, okay? It took a lot. I can't help being protective of all of it, wanting to keep it to myself. And I'm not gonna be careless with it just to satisfy curiosity around here, okay?

Cam nods thoughtfully.

"I get that," she says. "I do. You've always been a very private person. I know that. But I also know how you feel about her, Seeley. How she feels about you too. That's a rare thing… I don't know why you wouldn't want to go around shouting it from the rooftops…"

He shakes his head stubbornly – because the truth is that he has felt that way, like he wants to tell the whole damn world, but he refuses to admit that Cam might be right, that he's been as foolish and irrational as Bones would tell him – and stands.

"This is really none of your business, Camille. So if you don't mind, let's just forget we had this conversation, okay?"

He takes off down the stairs before she figures out a response.

This won't be the end of it, he knows, but at least he can delay the inevitable for a while.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N – Thank you so much for reading along. I'm so very grateful, guys.

How could I resist the development in this chapter? Tell me. Because I think it would have been impossible. LOL

-----------------------------

Across the table that holds their victim's bones, Wendell glares at Hodgins, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"You just had to go and tell Dr. Saroyan…" he says. "That would be bad enough, because it'd be easy enough to trace back to me, but you out and out tell her that it was me you heard it from! Jesus. Dr. Brennan's gonna fire me and then Booth'll shoot me and-"

"Oh, relax, kid," Hodgins laughs. "We were all gonna find out sooner or later. It's not like you spilled national security secrets, okay? No one's going to-"

"But she's up there with him right now," Wendell frets. "You said it yourself – Dr. Saroyan is totally going to confront Booth and he's going to want to know how she knows and she'll rat me out just like that. Because you ratted me out in the first place. I'm screwed."

Hodgins tries to bite back his laughter, coming around the table to clap the younger man on the shoulder. It's times like these that he especially misses Zack – his reaction to an incident like this wouldn't be so mundane, so ordinary, so normal.

"Wendell, man, you're going to be fine. Deep breath, okay?"

Wendell braces his arms on the edge of the table, shaking his head slowly.

"Why did it have to be me, though?" he asks. "Why did I have to overhear that conversation? Why couldn't it have been you… or Dr. Saroyan? Or that weird janitor with the lazy eye? Anyone but me, damn it."

"You were just in the right place at the right time, buddy," Hodgins laughs, but the kid doesn't seem to hear him. He's still shaking his head, looking dazed and panicked.

"I'm trying to decide who I should be more afraid of – Booth or Brennan. I don't think-"

"Why would you be afraid of either of them?" a curious, almost amused voice asks from behind them, and both men turn to see Lance Sweets making his way across the platform.

Wendell immediately straightens up, trying to act as if nothing's amiss, and Hodgins can tell that he doesn't want to be responsible for another person finding out about Booth and Brennan. He feels for the kid – he does – but Wendell's got to realize that this isn't the kind of news that you sit on, particularly when there are people around who've sat through every twist and turn in their relationship and deserve a little payoff in the end.

Sweets looks back and forth between the two men, raising his shoulders expectantly.

"What're you doing here?" Hodgins asks snidely. "I would have thought you'd have your hands pretty full with the latest development in the Booth-Brennan drama… so less time to harass us and all."

"I'm not harassing anyone," Sweets says. "Booth asked me to come by for some profiling. Of the victim this time. To see if maybe it'll help develop some suspects so…" He pauses, cocking his head. "Wait. The latest development in the Booth-Brennan drama? What are you talking about?"

Wendell slinks away to the far side of the exam table, trying to distance himself from the conversation, but Hodgins leans back, making himself comfortable. He senses something interesting happening here and he can't help wanting to see what develops.

"What do you think I'm talking about?" he asks coyly.

"The baby stuff?" Sweets says. "I mean, as I understand it, Dr. Brennan agreed to table that discussion for a while after Agent Booth's illness. Has she decided that she's ready to pursue motherhood once again?"

"The baby stuff?" Hodgins parrots incredulously. "That's old news, man. Seriously old."

Sweets shrugs.

"I'm not aware of any other significant developments in their relationship then. Have they been arguing or something?"

Suddently, this has all become too delicious for words and Hodgins glances over at Wendell, grinning widely and stupidly.

"You believe this?" he asks the intern, who stubbornly averts his eyes and refuses to get involved. Hodgins looks back at Sweets, laughing. "Seriously? You seriously don't know about this?"

"Know about what?"

"When was the last time you saw them? Your last session?"

"Two days ago," Sweets says. He's getting impatient now, annoyed, and he drops his hands to his hips defensively. "Why?"

"Oh, man. You're their damn therapist and you didn't pick up on it! What? Do they just hand out psychology degrees on the street corner in Toronto?"

Sweets clenches his jaw, looking as pissed as Hodgins has ever seen him. He's probably pushing a little too hard but the irony here is just too much.

"Again," Sweets says, and it almost sounds like he's gritting his teeth. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay," Hodgins chuckles. "Okay. Someone's got to clue you in or it's just cruel…" He straightens up, looking Sweets in the eye. "Booth and Brennan? You know, the people you're writing a book about? The people whose behavior and relationship you spend hours analyzing and picking apart? You know, *those* two?" He pauses and it's solely for dramatic effect but he can't help himself. "They're knocking boots, buddy."

He reaches out to cuff Sweets on the arm, just to punctuate his revelation. Sweets stares back at him blankly for a moment, as if he doesn't quite understand what he's heard. But then his eyes widen and his mouth drops open and there's no doubt that he's understood.

"Excuse me?" he chokes out. "Are you trying to tell me… are you saying… They're having *sex*?! For real? With each other?"

Hodgins nods, laughing gleefully.

"And right under your nose, man. How did you miss that?"

Sweets looks over at Wendell almost helplessly, like his entire world view has been shaken to the core and he needs someone to piece it back together for him. The intern looks away, though, still determined to keep quiet.

"Are you sure about this?" Sweets asks, looking back at Hodgins. "Because we did an exercise about personal boundaries the other day and there were no indications that anything had changed for them in that regard. I mean, I didn't…"

"Well, if it's any consolation," Hodgins says. "They've been keeping it on the down low. Still, you'd think that a trained psychologist, someone who's trying to make a career out of observing their behavior patterns, would pick up on it…"

Sweets looks up at him in a panic, as if he's thinking the exact same thing, and frowns.

"Are you sure? You're absolutely sure?"

"We're sure." Hodgins looks over at Wendell. "Right, man?"

Wendell shakes his head.

"I'm not saying anything. One way or another."

Hodgins rolls his eyes, and looks back at Sweets.

"Wendell's the one who overheard the conversation that blew the whole thing out of the water," he explains. "So we-"

"Would you stop telling everyone that!" Wendell hisses, but Sweets ignores him, staring at Hodgins rather intensely.

"How long?" he asks. "How long has this been going on?"

Good question, Hodgins thinks, and once more he looks over at Wendell. The kid throws his hands up, frustrated but realizing that he's not going to get out of this easily.

"I have no idea," he says. "I only heard a small part of Dr. Brennan and Angela's conversation. And then I tried to get out of there as fast as I could…"

Sweets nods.

"You overheard Dr. Brennan? She hasn't actually told anyone this?"

"Well, she obviously told Angela," Hodgins says.

"But that's it, right?" Sweets asks, and Hodgins nods. "What about Booth? Is he talking to anyone?"

"Nope. Cam's probably confronting him about it as we speak, though, so maybe she'll have some new info when she's done…"

Sweets bobs his head again, but it's almost incoherently and he braces himself against the exam table, just as Wendell had earlier. He shakes his head, and it's like someone's kicked his damn puppy. The kid looks wrecked – and even Hodgins feels a twinge of sympathy for him.

"I can't believe they didn't tell me," he mutters.

"Hey, Sweets. Come on. Lots of people aren't completely honest with their therapists. They don't want to admit to-"

"But I'm not just their therapist," Sweets protests. "And you and Cam, you're not just their co-workers. We all know that – even if we rarely acknowledge it."

Hodgins shrugs.

"That's true, man. But it's their life. At the end of the day, they don't really owe us anything."

Sweets whips his head up, meeting Hodgins' gaze. He looks at the older man like he's nuts, like he's spouting another crazy conspiracy theory and it's about time they fitted him for straitjacket. But Sweets just shakes his head again and somehow manages to school his features into a bland expression once more.

"This isn't healthy behavior," he declares. "And as their therapist, I cannot in good conscience sit back and allow it to go unacknowledged." He nods once, almost to himself. "Excuse me."

He turns and heads down the stairs in a hurry, right in the direction of Dr. Brennan's office. Hodgins laughs again, already imagining how that conversation might go.

"I'm dead," Wendell says. "Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth are going to be forced to talk about their sex lives with Sweets. They're going to kill me…"

"They'll probably be able to get away with it too," Hodgins teases. "Since they know all the ways to get caught."

"This is all your fault. You can't keep your big mouth shut, can you?"

Hodgins shakes his head, smiling.

"The problem is, everyone is taking this whole thing way too seriously," he says. "For once, it's not all life and death and bones and maggots around here. You'd think people would appreciate that for a change..."

But apparently he works with a bunch of drama queens – and they're just no fun at all.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you, as always, to everyone who's still reading along. You guys are amazing.

I'm kind of partial to this chapter. I like when I get to write B&B in the same scene. LOL

----------------------------

"Okay, so you're a scientist… you need proof of pretty much everything."

Booth charges into her office, as agitated as he's ever been at the Jeffersonian. Still, he remembers to close the door behind him because he's not taking any more chances – no one's going to overhear this damn conversation.

"Well, I've got it for you now," he declares. "Proof. That I was right last night when I told you if we kept things private, there'd be much less trouble. I was completely right."

Bones looks up from her computer calmly. She's no doubt picked up on his mood, but she's always such a cool customer. If she's noticed his frantic, aimless pacing, just in front of her desk, she's not mentioning it.

"What are you talking about?"

He comes to a stand still and drops his hands to his hips, meeting her gaze directly.

"Cam knows."

"Cam knows what?"

He sighs, throwing up his hands.

"Oh, come on, Bones! She *knows.* She knows about us."

He starts pacing again because it seems the only way to work off all the frustration and tension that skittering through him. Bones studies him for a moment, eyes following each agitated step he takes, and then shrugs.

"Oh," she says blandly. "That." She cocks her head and he could swear she's squinting at him. "You told her?"

He freezes again, gaping at her incredulously.

"No! Of course, I didn't tell her. Why would even think that?"

"Well," she begins, leaning back in her chair. "She's your friend in much the same way that Angela is mine so it only makes sense that there would be things that you'd like to share with her." Bones pauses, her eyes narrowing even further in concentration. "Did you think that I might be concerned because you used to have a sexual relationship with Cam? Because I'm not. I trust you, Booth."

He shakes his head, not even wanting to go there right now.

"No, no. It's not that. I just-"

"Wait. If you didn't tell her, then how did she find out? Because I have every confidence that Angela has kept quiet on the subject. She understands how you feel."

He sighs, lifting his shoulders tiredly.

"I don't know how Cam found out. She wouldn't say. But if she knows, then it's probably a safe bet that they all know…" He pauses, remembering his morning, and the pieces click into place. "I was in the lounge before and Wendell was acting really strange. Telling me how great you are… God, he must know too."

Bones nods, a little too knowingly for Booth's tastes.

"Yes. He very well may. Earlier, Angela and I were having a conversation about some of your sexual preferences and there is a significant chance that Wendell may have overheard at least a portion of it."

Booth groans, covering his face with hands.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he mutters. "See! This is exactly why you don't go discussing our sex life in the middle of your office, okay? This is exactly what discretion is for – to prevent things like this from happening."

She scrunches her face up in a dubious expression, one that he'd probably find sexy if he weren't so damn flustered, and shrugs.

"I'm sorry but I honestly do not see why you're making such an issue of this. Obviously, this isn't the ideal way for everyone to find out but it's not as if-"

"Why am I making such an issue of this?" he says. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm here trying to do my job and then I get accosted by Cam, demanding all these answers about stuff that's none of her business. Asking me why we're sneaking around – like I'm having an affair with my secretary. I think those were her exact words…"

Bones smiles, her expression so serene and lovely that he almost forgets what he's so annoyed about. He could fall into those eyes, he thinks. Just drift away and never be heard from again.

"Honestly," she says, sounding almost amused. "I wonder those same things myself sometimes."

He looks up at her, startled, and frowns.

"Bones. I didn't mean…"

What exactly is his problem, he wonders. This woman is at the heart of everything he says, does, and feels and he's never done a particularly good job of hiding that fact. It shouldn't be this hard to just admit it, to shout it from the rooftops like Cam suggested. He sighs, slinking off the corner of the office and slouching back against her bookcase. She comes to him almost immediately, stepping between his legs and resting her hands against his shoulders. Their bodies are pressed together and anyone passing by could probably see, despite the fact that they're tucked away in a far corner of the room, but he doesn't care.

He looks down into her lovely face and couldn't care less what the rest of the world sees or thinks or feels.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm sorry if everyone knowing makes you uncomfortable. It was not my intention to embarrass you when I had that conversation with Angela."

He nods, pulling her even closer.

"I know that, Bones. And I'm not really that upset. I just…" He cocks his head, stroking his thumb along her cheek. "I want to do this right. I don't want to screw it up."

"Why would our friends knowing screw anything up?" she asks.

As usual, she gets to the heart of the matter quicker than anyone he knows.

"I don't know," he tells her. "I don't…" He laughs, shaking his head. "I know, I know. I'm being irrational. But I gotta tell you, Bones – you make me do that a lot. You drive me absolutely crazy."

She grins, looking absolutely pleased with his admission, and he loves her like this, when she's so girlish and giggly that he can imagine what she might have been like before her parents disappeared.

"The feeling is mutual," she says happily. "I'm never more irrational than when I'm with you."

"Hmmm," he chuckles. "I think there's a compliment in there somewhere..."

"There is. It means that when I'm with you, I often forget about reason and logic entirely. And that's actually quite liberating. And exciting."

He flushes and it occurs to him that they might be more similar than they think.

At least in this they are.

"You kind of excite me too," he teases. "Just a little bit."

He leans in for a kiss and she tastes so dark and rich and feels so warm and firm and he wonders, not for the first time, how he held out for four damn years. It was beyond masochistic.

"You know, there are benefits to everyone knowing," she whispers against his mouth, tugging on his tie for emphasis.

He grins.

"Oh yeah?" He kisses her again, taking his time. "Like what?"

"Well, if everyone already knows, we can do this…" She kisses him this time, slow and deep and dizzying, until he's desperate for breath. "Whenever we'd like…"

"That is a very good point," he says. "You really are a genius…"

He slides his mouth against hers once more, but she squirms away just when it's getting interesting, giggling and slapping his hands away when he tries to tug her back.

"But I do want to respect your discomfort with public displays of affection," she says cheekily. "So it's probably best if we refrain here at the office."

He makes a strangled sound, halfway between a groan and a laugh, and struggles to stand up.

"Oh, you are so gonna get it later …"

She grins at him from behind her desk once more.

"Promises, promises."

They gaze at one another across the office, the world still and forgotten once more. He thinks that they're both probably smiling like fools and he feels them slipping into one of those moments that seems like it could stretch on into eternity, so simple and easy and-

Until, of course, the office door is unceremoniously flung open, and they both look away from one another and toward the hall, where Sweets stands, looking like a kicked, wounded puppy.

"Well, well, well," he says, almost snidely. "If it isn't my two most prized patients…"

Bones furrows her brow, frowning.

"You sound as if you're surprised. It's my office. Wouldn't you expect to find us here?"

Sweets nods, stepping into the room.

"Well, yes. Logically speaking, it is a safe assumption that I could find you in your office, Dr. Brenna. Agent Booth, however, is less predictable." He smirks, a sharpness in his expression that is so uncharacteristic of him. "But then again, since you two are joined at the hip, it's not entirely surprising now, is it?"

Booth laughs.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong, Sweets? You're a lot crankier than usual."

"Cranky?" Sweets says. "Why would I possibly be cranky?"

He looks back and forth between Booth and Bones expectantly, like the question was more than rhetorical. They look at one another in confusion, but this only seems to set the younger man off and he throws his hands up, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"I mean, it couldn't possibly be because two patients that I trust and believed that I'd come to develop a rapport with, two patients who know full well that my manuscript revolves around the nature of their interpersonal relationship, have been hiding something from me that is so significant, so momentous, that it completely changes everything about said relationship. And they've done so deliberately and purposefully…" He shakes his head, grinning humorlessly. "I mean, surely a man who's not engaged in a romantic relationship with his colleague would not inform me - just two days ago, mind you - that it wasn't really necessary to discuss intimacy issues in therapy because –" He stops to curl his fingers through the air in mock quotes. "'Those issues don't apply to Bones and me.'"

Booth groans, covering his eyes with hands.

"Damn it, just shoot me now. Sweets knows, too."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – Thank you for reading along. You guys are the best.

This chapter is pretty much nothing that I expected. LOL I know the tone is a little different that previous installments but it's where the muse pulled me so I had to go. I'm really interested to hear what you guys think, so be honest.

Oh, and we're definitely in the home stretch. Just 1-2 chapters left.

---------------

At this point in their relationship, Sweets is used to being railroaded by Booth and Brennan.

They evade questions, daydream during sessions, ridicule his therapeutic techniques. They blow off appointments, gang up on him, laugh over private, little jokes. Most days, he considers it a minor miracle that they show up at all, that they're even willing to sit across from him and (pretend to) listen to what he has to say.

But the thing is, he'd thought that they'd made some progress. He'd thought they'd established some small degree of trust, maybe even respect. Brennan had announced her desire for a child in Sweets' office, after all, and brazenly suggested that Agent Booth was the perfect donor for such an endeavor with the psychologist sitting right there.

That had to count for something. That had to say something about how comfortable they felt with him.

Well, Dr. Brennan anyway.

Booth has always taken great joy in unleashing his own special brand of hostility.

So now, just boiling with righteous indignation, Sweets is ready to finally give him a taste of his own medicine, a little fire and brimstone Sweets-style.

"*You're* angry?" He glares at Booth, feeling his blood pressure rise. "*You're* frustrated? You go around letting everyone and their mother in on the fact that you two are sleeping together and you're annoyed that *I* know? You've got to be kidding me. You don't get to be annoyed. You don't get to be pissed off. I do… and I am. I'm pissed off. I'm *super* pissed off right now."

He feels slightly like a three year old, throwing a tantrum because mommy won't give him another juice box, but he can't help himself. He's their freaking therapist. More than that, he's their friend. He doesn't understand why these two persist with this 'the two of us against the world' bullshit. They have friends. They have allies. He doesn't know why that's so hard for them to acknowledge.

Booth sighs, shaking his head. Dr. Brennan merely leans back in her chair, looking as cool and collected as ever.

"Settle down there, Sweets," Booth says. "This isn't about you, okay? This is about me and Bones and it's not-"

"I'm your therapist. We do nothing in my office but discuss your relationship. Don't you think honesty on this subject would be appropriate?"

Booth stays stubbornly silent, his expression purposefully blank, while Brennan shrugs.

"To be perfectly honest…" she says. "I fail to see why everyone is so worked up about this. There have been physical relationships between other members of our team and I don't recall there being such a firestorm over them."

Sweets can only shake his head.

"That's all well and good, Dr. Brennan, but you also didn't seem to understand why everyone was so 'worked up' when you suddenly decided you wanted a baby overnight and for Agent Booth to be the one to give you one, so figure me if I find your judgment slightly skewed."

She takes his criticism in stride, simply shrugging again. Booth paces in front of her desk, hands at his hips, and she looks over at him for a moment, an amused, little smile tugging at lips. Sweets finds himself analyzing her body language, her expression, trying frantically to determine if she's looking at her partner any differently now, if he can see something in the weight of her gaze now that he knows she's sleeping with Booth that he hasn't before.

"Okay, just for the record, I didn't tell anyone anything," Booth announces, cutting his eyes to Brennan. "Bones, on the other hand, has been reenacting episodes of Sex and the City with Angela so…"

Brennan frowns.

"I don't know what that means but it is true that I did tell Angela. But only in the vaguest of terms… somehow it took on a life of its own from there."

"Yeah, well, I had to hear it from Hodgins," Sweets sighs. "And let me tell you, he took great delight in informing me I'm so mega clueless about your relationship despite the fact that I'm basing an entire book on exactly that. It pretty much sucked…"

Booth comes to a standstill, chuckling humorlessly.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was really rough. But I feel the need to remind you again – this isn't about you, Sweets. Okay? Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?"

"I think it's about me just a bit, Agent Booth. You lied to me! You lied right to my face."

Dr. Brennan shifts forward in her chair, shaking her head vehemently.

"No," she insists. "Technically, we did not lie."

Sweets gapes at her and not for the first time since he's met her, he is utterly fascinated by the way her mind works.

Annoyed and appalled too, but that's beside the point.

"Dr. Brennan, just two days ago, we sat in my office and discussed the notion of intimacy and boundaries as it pertains to your relationship. Agent Booth explicitly told me that those issues did not apply to the two of you. He was clearly trying to minimize your involvement in the hopes of throwing me off the trail."

"Maybe," she concedes. "But he did not lie." She looks over at Booth, her smile just a little too sly and knowing for Sweets' comfort. "We do not have any issues with intimacy whatsoever…"

Booth flushes, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Bones…" he says, his tone more whining than warning, but she merely smiles back, clearly not feeling chastised in the least.

"You know, that's really not the issue here," Sweets says. "I don't care how good the sex is. This is about-"

"No. No way." Booth shakes his head petulantly. "No. I don't even want to hear the word sex coming out of your mouth, okay? Just… no."

Sweets nearly rolls his eyes.

"Seriously, Agent Booth? You're not mature enough to have a frank conversation about sex. I think that speaks to much larger issues that we should-"

"I'm mature enough to know a little something about discretion," Booth says. "That's how mature I am."

It occurs to Sweets then that perhaps the best way to approach the situation is as their therapist, not a friend who's bummed out because they didn't trust him enough to share such momentous news. He crosses his arms against his chest, studying Booth's body language, analyzing the clues. The older men must sense the scrutiny because he stops his fidgeting, stands up straight and still, and schools his features into a bland, utterly neutral expression.

"Sex is now a significant component of your relationship with Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth. If your relationship is going to thrive, you'll have to learn to become more comfortable discussing the subject because it's-"

"I'm plenty comfortable talking about it," Booth hisses. "Just not with you."

"This is true," Brennan chimes in. "Contrary to my previous assumptions, he's been surprisingly vocal and open regarding the subject."

Booth frowns, his face still red.

"That's good to know, Dr. Brennan, but it's a subject that will inevitably come up for us in future sessions and Agent Booth needs to-"

"Hold up," Booth cuts in, waving his hand. "Okay, see, this, right here, is exactly why I didn't want you to know. We're not going to start sex therapy with you, Sweets. We're not going to start couples therapy. Because we're fine, there are no issues and-"

"You're already in couples' therapy," Sweets says in exasperation. "Technically speaking."

"You know what I mean. *Couples* couples therapy. You know, where you ask Bones if I bring her flowers often enough to make her feel appreciated and you tell me I need to articulate more clearly why I don't like her panty hose hanging all over my shower rod…"

"Fresh flowers can be nice on occasion," Brennan offers, and Booth looks at her in frustration.

"Bones, that's not really what I'm-"

"But in general, if you're thinking of getting me a gift, I'd prefer something like a book or a CD, one you think I might like because..." She trails off then, gazing over at Booth, and a wistful, almost dreamy look comes over her face. "On second thought, this conversation is unnecessary. You already give very nice gifts. I don't need to explain."

He smiles back at her, his eyes softening in a way they often do when he looks at her. Sweets watches them for a moment, once again lost in their little world of two, and wonders how this all finally came to be. It was inevitable, he knows, but they'd already let so many opportunities pass them by. He wonders what was different this time, what made it too difficult for either of them to resist. Brennan catches him watching then, and for the first time since Sweets stormed in here, she looks uncomfortable, cornered.

"Also," she says, looking over at Sweets. "I don't really wear panty hose. I wear stockings. I find them to be more comfortable and easier to-"

"Bones…"

"What? Your example was arbitrary and fabricated. I was simply setting the record straight."

Booth shakes his head in exasperation, but there's affection there too. Love, Sweets thinks. It's written all over the poor guy's face. But that's probably just the newness of it. Booth doesn't quite believe this is all real yet. He's still trying to find his way.

"How long?" Sweets asks them then. "How long as this been going on?"

Booth frowns, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"That's none of your-"

"Nearly two and a half months," Brennan announces. "Since just after Booth was recovered enough from his surgery to engage in sexual activities."

"Bones!"

"It's a simple fact, Booth. A rather mundane one at that. It's not like I told him about that first time, when we didn't even make it to your-"

"Bones," he warns. "Enough."

"Two and a half months?" Sweets repeats, and he stops to do some mental calculations. One hour long session a week over approximately ten weeks adds up to ten hours, ten hours that they sat across from him and lied through their shiny, white teeth. His anger, which had given way to curiosity, returns at full boil, and he shakes his head in disbelief. "You've been lying to me – to all of your friends – for almost three months? Seriously?"

"Again, I must point out that technically we weren't lying," Brennan says. "We simply choose not to share the information. No one directly questioned us about a sexual relationship."

"It's a lie of omission, Dr. Brennan, and you know it."

She shrugs, seeming unconcerned. Booth isn't quite so nonchalant and he takes a step toward Sweets, clearly trying to be intimidating.

"Explain to me why we're obligated to tell you about any of this," he says. "This is our business, Sweets. Our lives. Why is everyone acting like we owe them something?"

"At the risk of sounding super redundant, you're in therapy with me, Agent Booth. Partners' therapy. The fact that the two of you are now engaging in a sexual relationship certainly impacts your working dynamic, wouldn't you say?"

Booth and Brennan glance at one another, both considering the question.

"No," they answer, in near unison. "Not really."

"No?" Sweets repeats incredulously. "Not really? Are you two freaking insane?"

"You're the psychologist," Booth says with a smirk. "You tell us."

"Yeah!" he declares. "You are! You're both freaking insane. You're having sex, guys. Sex. You two have been dancing around this line since before I even met you and now you've crossed it and you want to stand here and tell me that it hasn't affected the way you work with one another? That your partnership hasn't been altered by it? That's just…"

He shakes his head. Even now, even now when they've finally admitted that they want to be with one another, they're still so firmly entrenched in denial. He couldn't have chosen a better subject for his book – these two are nuts.

"Very little has changed between us," Brennan says calmly. "That is the truth. In a way, I think you could argue that the sex is merely an extension of the rapport and connection that we'd already established. Booth and I work together extremely well, as our solve rate clearly indicates, and it's really no different when it comes to sex. The results are just much more pleasurable."

Booth covers his face with a hand, muttering under his breath. All this talk of sex is a little too much for him, and it occurs to Sweets then that it's obscuring another issue, one that's even more critical than anything physical.

"What about the emotional aspect of your relationship?" he challenges. "Are you saying that there are no feelings involved here? It's just about working well together, catching murderers, and good sex?"

Booth's jaw tightens instantly, and he and Brennan look at each other again, doing that whole silent communication thing they do so well. He turns and glares at Sweets then, like he's trying really hard to control his impulses – namely to slug the good doctor right in the face.

"No one is saying that," he grits out. "What Bones is trying to explain is that we haven't suddenly become different people just because we've, you know, gone to bed together. I mean, She still drives me nuts half the time with all her scientific, relentlessly rational mumbo jumbo and-"

"And he still refuses to acknowledge that a logical and scientific approach to a case is superior to one based on conjecture and guess-work," Brennan interrupts. "So nothing has changed."

Booth looks back at her, frowning.

"I refuse to acknowledge that? That's not really fair. Or accurate."

"Well, you don't acknowledge it often," she says primly. "That is a fact."

"Bones, I know how important the lab work is… but you have to admit that the other stuff, you know, the human side, it's pretty important. I mean, if it wasn't, would you really be insisting on going out in the field with me? When you could be back here at the lab? I mean, it's pretty obvious what the cooler part of the job is…"

"I couldn't agree more – the lab."

"What?" he laughs. "That doesn't make any sense. If the lab's so great, why do you always want to come along with me?"

"I worry that if you're left alone to your own devices, you're rely solely on assumptions and speculation to build your case. I'm around to remind you that the scientific evidence is the only thing we can fully trust."

"That's a crock and you know it."

"I know that you're very sensitive about this, yes."

He scoffs, lifting his chin almost defiantly.

"Yeah, well, you… you…" He hesitates, brightening after a moment. "You steal the covers. How about that?"

He's pleased with himself, but she squints at him in confusion.

"I what?"

"You steal all the blankets in bed," he explains. "So I'm left with one single corner of the damn thing. And then you insist on cranking up the AC so I wind up freezing my ass off…"

"I don't know what you're…" She glances over at Sweets, as if she's suddenly remembered he's in the room. "I utilize an appropriate amount of blanket in ratio to its relative size and the size of both of our bodies…" She looks back over at Booth. "Besides, you talk in your sleep. Sometimes you keep me up for hours."

Booth's mouth drops open in outrage.

"I do not!"

"You most certainly do. The other night, you prattled on for nearly fifteen minutes, trying to convince someone to paint a fence or porch. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so annoying."

Booth frowns at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, then turns to Sweets, almost conspiratorially, like they're on the same side and didn't just spend the better part of the twenty minutes arguing.

"Yeah, well, not only are her feet always ice cold, so she tucks them against me to try to warm them up, she steals my socks when that doesn't work. Just the other day, I found three pairs in her underwear drawer. Three!" He looks over at her accusingly. "And one of them was the blue pair with the yellow stripes. One of my favorites."

"They are very warm socks," she defends, looking at Sweets almost imploringly. "And Booth… he still refuses to let me drive."

Having stood back and merely listened to this entire ridiculous exchange, Sweets can only laugh. They're right – there is still so much of them that is exactly the same despite their newfound intimacy. But he also knows that they're seriously naive if they believe that their relationship hasn't changed at all. A dam's been opened and there are bound to be repercussions.

But Booth whips his head up, glowering, and Sweets suspects that it won't be that easy to convince them.

"Hey, get your mind out of the gutter," Booth says. "That's not a sexual reference. She means the car. I don't let her drive the car."

Sweets holds his hands up in mock surrender, only laughing harder. He's not quite sure why Booth would leap to such a conclusion but it's telling, something that should be noted for future discussion for sure.

"What would driving have to do with sex?" Brennan wonders, her head tilted thoughtfully. It only takes a moment for it to hit her, her eyes lighting. "Ooooh! I get it. No. That's not an issue at all. Booth's quite amenable to allowing me to-"

"Jeeze, Bones. Come on."

She smiles at him, feigning innocence.

"What? I can't help it. I like driving every once in a while."

"Can we get back to the real issue here?" Sweets asks.

Booth crosses his arms against his chest stubbornly.

"And what would that be?"

Sweets smiles patiently – Booth can play dumb all he wants, but they're still going to wind up talking this through.

"I believe – you can correct me if I'm wrong – that we were discussing the fact that your relationship with Dr. Brennan has significantly evolved in the past couple of months and despite this, you saw no need to reveal this change to your friends and co-workers. Even your therapist."

Booth shrugs.

"I really wasn't discussing anything but…"

Sweets sighs, having the most vivid mental image of knocking Booth's head against the wall. It'd be seriously satisfying, he suspects.

"It is true that Booth and I are now engaged in a sexual relationship," Brennan says, in her usual cut-to-the-chase manner. "However, there's no evidence to suggest that this change has impacted our working relationship in any way. The fact that no one suspected that anything was different between us until now is proof of that."

She's got Sweets there, but he knows that there must be more here, more layers to peel back.

"Fine. I'll buy that. Let's forget about the professional implications for just a moment. Why didn't you feel the need to share what is obviously positive news with your friends? With Angela in particular, for instance."

Brennan looks over at Booth quickly, her expression unreadable.

"I didn't feel any need, so to speak," she says. "But I did think that I might want to tell Angela about it. However, Booth expressed a desire for privacy, at least initially, and I thought it was important that I respect that."

Sweets nods.

"Okay. Good." He turns to Booth. "Why do you think privacy is so important to you regarding your relationship with Dr. Brennan?"

Booth throws his hands up.

"What kind of question is that? Do you go running around telling everyone about you and Daisy?" He pauses, a wide grin breaking out across his face. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you kept that whole thing under wraps for a while yourself, didn't you?"

"That's irrelevant," Sweets says brusquely. "We're talking about you. About your relationship with Dr. Brennan and why you're so hell bent on keeping it just between the two of you."

"Isn't that what a relationship is?" Booth asks. "Something between two people. I wasn't aware we had to let the whole damn lab into the middle of it."

Interestingly enough, Brennan sits back and simply watches the exchange, not making the slightest move to involve herself. At their usual sessions, she often leaps to her partner's aid, tries to take up his cause even when there's no need. Now she seems content to simply listen, like she has no idea what Booth might say.

"May I tell you what I think it's about?" Sweets asks him. "Would that be all right?"

Booth laughs humorlessly.

"Like I could stop you…"

"You're afraid, Agent Booth. That's what all of this is about."

Booth snorts, eyes narrowed.

"Really? Okay. What am I afraid of? Bones knows how I feel about her. What else would I be afraid of?"

Sweets grins, and like a shark that catches the scent of blood in the water, he goes in for the kill.

"Does she?" he prods. "Does she really know how you feel?"

Brennan is gazing at Booth, her brow furrowed as she studies him. When he looks back at her, the depth of emotion on his face is nearly unsettling, and Sweets wonders if he's ever seen this man more vulnerable. Booth reigns himself in, though, looking back at Sweets sternly.

"Of course she does."

"I'm not so sure, Agent Booth. I think what's going on here is that you're afraid all of this is going to fall apart. You know how much you've risked just to take it to this point and you're worried that it's still going to slip away from you somehow. That's why you're trying to control it, to keep it just between the two of you, so it can't get away from you."

Booth shakes his head.

"I don't even know what that means…"

"It means that there are still issues to work out here," Sweets says. "It means that we should continue to-"

"Sweets, stop," Brennan finally chimes in. "You're being ridiculous. I told you that there are no issues between us. Over the years, we both may have sublimated certain desires due to fear, but we've admitted that to each other. We're being honest about those desires now. And I think that I can speak for Booth when I say that we're both extremely satisfied with the way things have developed. He may be experiencing some discomfort over everyone knowing what's going on between us, but Booth's always been uncomfortable talking about his personal life. I don't understand why you feel the need to turn this into something more."

Booth gazes at her gratefully, letting out a slow, deep breath, and she smiles back at him.

"You don't understand why I think this is a big deal?" Sweets says. "Really?"

Brennan shakes her head.

"You either, Agent Booth?"

Booth mimics his partner, giving a quick shake of his head, and Sweets sighs in frustration.

"Are you two serious? Because this isn't just a big deal – it's a mega big deal. And you two are once again trying to deny that anything out of the ordinary is happening here. Don't you see the problem with that?"

They look at one another for a moment, then back at Sweets.

"No," Brennan says. "Because nothing is out of the ordinary."

He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

They both give a quick nod of their head, and he throws his hands up in defeat.

"You two are hopeless" he sighs. "Utterly freaking hopeless."

And yet, when he wanders out of Dr. Brennan's office, it's Sweet who feels as if he's completely run out of hope.

Because, at the rate they're going, he's never going to finish his damn book.

----------------

"This is getting out of control," he tells her, once Sweets is long gone. "Wheels off the road, out of control."

She's still sitting behind her desk, looking utterly professional and utterly beautiful, and he can't help but think she's above all of this, that she deserves better than a starring role in this ridiculous workplace drama.

"I suspect that once the novelty's worn off and there is something more interesting to discuss, the interest in our relationship will dissipate," she tells him. "Sweets may be a problem, though. I'm fairly certain that this will be the main topic of conversation at our sessions for months to come…"

"Yeah," Booth agrees absently. "But that's not really what…"

She looks up at him, with those summer sky eyes, and it's as if the entire world has come to a devastating halt. He hurries around to her side of the desk, tugging her from the chair and against his body.

"I just hope you understand," he says. "I hope you understand how important this is to me. How important you are to me."

"Booth," she laughs, sounding a little nervous, and her hands slide her along his lapels, clutching the fabric tightly. "Of course I know."

He nods and takes a deep breath, trying to work up his courage. He's got nothing to lose, he tells himself. She's already got his heart in her hands.

"It's just that…"

He strokes his thumbs against her cheeks where the skin is soft as velvet and he watches the corners of her mouth rise in an anxious little smile and he feels his heart pounding against hers and he knows that there isn't going to be a better time.

It's now or never.

"I love you," he says, and he knows that he probably sounds apologetic, like he's sorry that he's burdening her with this, but it's the first time he's said it and it was bound to be clumsy.

By some miracle, though, Bones smiles, in that wide open way that he loves so much, and the world is no longer still – instead, it feels just about ready to spin off its axis.

"I know that too," she tells him, and there is nothing but tenderness in her eyes – no recrimination, no doubt, no fear.

And she does, he thinks. She knows and she's probably known for quite some time. Everyone outside in the lab knows too. He's never been good at hiding it, at hiding what she means to him. But more than that, he doesn't know why he'd ever want to.

He laughs, wondering how it ever got this far.

"This is crazy," he says, speaking to himself as much as her, and takes her hand in his. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" she asks as he leads her through the door.

"To set the record straight."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – Okay, we've made it to the final chapter and I must offer up my heartfelt thanks to everyone who read along, left reviews, or dropped me a kind note. I was a little nervous, this being my first go around with Bones fic, but you guys have been absolutely fabulous. I appreciate it more than I can say.

When I was looking back over the story to outline the final chapter, I realized that I'd written an installment from pretty much everyone's POV except Brennan's. That's probably because I'm totally intimidated by the thought of writing in her voice. Seriously intimidated, I tell you. LOL. But I feel like the story probably could probably benefit from that very thing and since I think challenging yourself is always a good thing, this last chapter is in fact told from Brennan's POV (with a tiny bit of Angela at the beginning just to bring things full circle). Let me know what you think.

This will be followed by an epilogue of sorts. I'll try to have that up pretty quickly since it's short and shouldn't involve much heavy duty editing.

-----------

When Angela finally makes her way up to the platform to give Cam an update, it's already nearly dinner time. She'd taken a long lunch outside to try to clear her head, but then spent the rest of the afternoon hold up in her office, trying to piece together a sketch of their victim with the limited pieces of the skull that they'd recovered. It's been slow-going, frustrating to say the least, but at least she's got a place for Booth and Brennan to start.

It's better than nothing anyway.

She's dreaming about margaritas and heaping plates of nachos as she jogs up the stairs, an evening of ordinary distractions. She wonders if she can convince Brennan to come along, maybe even bring Booth. Angela could spend the evening interrogating them side-by-side, with the possibility of alcohol loosening even the most stubborn of tongues. She'd be hard pressed to find a better distraction, she thinks. A squirmy, flustered Booth is guaranteed entertainment.

The rest of the team, sans Booth and Brennan, are gathered on the platform. Sweets has even made an appearance, but Brennan had mentioned that he was going to be working on a profile of the victim. It only takes one glance at the psychologist and Angela knows something is up. He's flailing his arms around, talking a million miles a minute, and his expression is nothing short of shell-shocked. Cam looks strangely serious, arms crossed against her chest and a purposeful little frown tightening her mouth. Wendell rubs absently at his forehead, looking like he wishes he could be anywhere else in the world, like he wondering if anyone would notice if he suddenly bolted from the lab.

Bu it's Hodgins who really gives everything way.

He's leaning back in a desk chair, shaking his head slowly, and his smirk – and that's most definitely what it is since it's way too smug to be considered a smile – is deep enough to fall into. He is beyond amused. He is eating up whatever's going on with a spoon, probably getting ready to ask for seconds, and just like that, it all falls into place.

"Let me guess," she says as she joins the group. "You guys heard about Booth and the broccoli."

Sweets blinks at her, shaking his head.

"Booth and broccoli?" he repeats, annoyed. "This is serious, Angela. No one really cares what he had for lunch…"

"Trust me," she laughs. "If it was broccoli, I'm thinking Brennan might."

"What are you talking about?" Cam asks, sounding a bit more patient than Sweets. "Because I'm thinking we're on totally different pages…"

"No. I'm pretty sure we're on the same one." Angela smiles over at Wendell. "I'm guessing a little blonde birdie told you guys about Brennan and Booth…"

"Hey now," Wendell says, holding up his hand defensively. "I wanted no part of this, okay? I was just an innocent bystander who overheard something that I never, ever wanted to hear, all right?"

"And then you ran right out here and told the whole lab?" Angela asks, not unkindly. "Yeah, I can see just how badly you were traumatized."

"It wasn't like that! I didn't mean to… Hodgins made me tell him."

Angela glances over at Hodgins, and they exchange knowing smirks.

"Please. The kid folded like a cheap suit. I barely had to ask."

"That's not true! I didn't-"

"I think we're all losing sight of the bigger picture," Sweets says. "It really doesn't matter *how* we found out. What matters is that we didn't find out from them."

"Well, actually," Angela says. "Brennan did tell me. She was vague about the whole thing, but her intent was clearly to share the news."

"But this just happened the other day, right?" Sweets presses. "So basically, they've been sneaking around and lying about their relationship for almost three months. That's not-"

"Wait, what?" Angela frowns, her brow furrowed tightly. "Did you say three months? They've been together for *three* months and Brennan only told me now?"

"Exactly!" Sweets declares. "That's exactly the point we should be focusing on."

Hodgins shakes his head.

"You guys are all nuts," he laughs. "Something this juicy happens and all you care about is why you weren't told sooner? Don't you care that… oh, I don't know… it happened in the first place?"

Sweets waves his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. But I think that right now the more pressing issue is the fact that they're both trying to pretend that their relationship hasn't changed at all, with Booth so freaking paranoid about people even knowing they're together in the first place. They're still in denial. They just changed the thing they're in denial about…"

"That's kind of a good point," Cam admits reluctantly.

Angela just shakes her head, still feeling a bit off kilter.

"I just can't believe this was going for three months and I never noticed. How is that even possible?"

"Maybe because Booth and Dr. Brennan are right," Hodgins suggests cheekily. "Maybe nothing's really changed between them except the fact that they're hitting the sheets nightly. It's possible, you know."

Sweets shakes his head.

"No. I really can't see how it is. And since they refuse to even discuss the issue, I'm not sure how to make them see what's really going on."

Angela sees them then – Booth and Brennan headed toward the platform with purpose. He's holding Brennan's hand, looking as determined as Angela's ever seen him, and she can't help but smile.

"Well, it looks like you might get your chance…"

-----------

He's just holding her hand, just leading her from her office to the platform, but for some reason she can't stop staring at their tangled fingers.

They've done this before, she thinks. Even before they were lovers. But not like this, not in a way that so clearly marks them as mates, as a couple, as two halves of a whole. She studies their hands, the way the fit neatly inside one another, and there's a strange sensation in her chest, almost an ache.

It doesn't make sense, she thinks. He's only holding her hand and that's hardly a significant physical gesture, particularly since they've actually had sex now, but it still feels different somehow, like he's trying to tell her something. He's always been a very tactile person, she knows, and she wonders now if he's spent the past few years holding back, keeping himself from touching her in just this way. That strikes her as immeasurably sad, and she grips his hand just a little bit tighter in reflex.

She won't let go until he does.

And when she feels his fingers slip from hers as he moves his hand to the small of her back to usher her up the stairs, she sighs just a bit. She likes the feel of his skin against hers, of his pulse beneath her fingertips. She likes how he makes her feel, like despite her intellect, despite all her degrees and academic accomplishments, there are still things left to learn, that there are still pieces of the world left to discover.

It frightens her, of course, but it thrills her even more.

The rest of the team is already gathered on the platform when the reach the top, and they all look toward her and Booth with surprised but expectant expressions. He seems to falter just a bit when he sees them assembled there, like they're some kind of firing squad to be faced. He glances over at her almost apologetically and she shakes her head, expecting nothing from him. He can do this at his own pace, when it feels right to him, and she suspects that this moment, with Sweets glaring at them almost cross-eyed and Hodgins grinning with just a little too much amusement, is not the right one.

"Hey guys," Angela says, and she's smiling kindly, the best girl friend that Brennan's ever had. "What's going on?"

Booth looks at Brennan again, frowning just a bit. Both of their arms are hanging at their sides and then his fingers are suddenly curling through hers once more. She looks down in surprise, his skin somehow warmer than she remembers. They can all see, she knows - Sweets and Angela and Hodgins and Cam. Even Wendell - and it's strange to be touching him like this in front of them. For a moment, she thinks that she finally understands what he meant about things between them being private, special. She can understand why he might want to protect what they have from prying eyes and pointed questions because right now all she wants is to shield him from anything in the world that might hurt him.

Even if that means protecting him from their friends.

Because he loves her and she knows that she can't be the easiest person in the world to love sometimes.

Some nights, when she thinks about how close she came to losing him, how close she's come before, her throat seems to close up and her heart pounds so hard inside her chest that she's nearly shaking. She recognizes it for what it is – a panic attack – but it's more than that too. She doesn't know exactly what it means, but she does know that it means something, that it is important.

She'll figure it out eventually.

She glances at him now, his palm sweaty against hers, and she knows that she understands enough.

"There's something I'd like to say," she announces calmly. "For the record, whatever might be going on between Booth and I is private. As such, we'd both appreciate it if-"

"Aw, hell!"

She looks at Booth in surprise, startled by his sudden outburst, but she's even more astonished when he grabs her, pulls her flush against him and kisses her like he might never get the chance again. She's caught off guard and off balance, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and hanging on for dear life. He's kissed her like this before, like he wants to devour her whole, but he's always done it behind closed doors, with the curtains drawn and the blinds pulled. They have an audience now and she can hear the chuckling, maybe even a gasp or two. She finds herself laughing against his mouth because she's never felt this giddy before, she's never felt this wonderfully out of control.

She's still smiling when he sets her down on her feet, easing away from her just a bit.

"That's how it is, okay?" he says, wiping at his mouth as he addresses the group. "You all satisfied? You get your eyeful? Want us to pose so you can take some pictures?"

They gape at him, their friends and co-workers, but he stands his group, hands on his hips and head held high. Angela laughs, reaching out to rub his arm.

"I always knew you had it in you, Booth," she giggles. "Didn't I, Bren?"

Angela winks at her and her smile stretches, grows. Cam laughs then too, the shock seeming to wear off.

"Well, that's one way to put an end to the gossip, I guess," she teases.

"Actually, I think that's the kind of the thing that starts *tongues* a wagging, not stops them," Hodgins says archly. "Pun totally intended."

When Brennan looks over at Booth, he's fighting off a smile, the corners of his mouth twitching with the effort. She reaches for his hand now, knotting her fingers through his and squeezing just a bit. He loses his battle then, grinning at her with unrestrained glee. Sweets takes a step forward then, catching Booth's eye but somehow his smile doesn't falter even in the face of possible psychological dissection.

"I think this was a very positive step forward, Agent Booth," Sweets says. "But it's just one step and we'll need to keep working on the underlying-"

"Anyway," Angela says, unceremoniously pushing Sweets out of the way and opening her sketch pad. "I actually finished a rough sketch of the victim … that's what I was on my way up here to tell you guys when Booth had to go all PDA on us. I mean, jeeze. Some people don't know anything about professionalism, do they?"

"Ha ha ha," Booth says, faux-grump and he snatches the pad from her. "Everyone's a comedian…"

Brennan looks at the sketch, at how much Angela was able to do with so little.

"This is fantastic work, Ange. Amazing."

"Well, it's hard to tell how accurate it is right now…"

"But it's someplace to start at least," Cam points out. "Which is more than we had before."

"And we'll run it and see if we get any matches for missing persons," Booth says. "Maybe we'll catch a break."

"It's good work, Angela," Brennan says again. "Very good work."

Angela smiles, nodding.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Definitely deserving of a margarita, wouldn't you say?"

Booth nearly groans his agreement.

"Yes! After the day I've had, I'm just gonna open my mouth right under the tap and let the bartender go to town…"

"Not if I get there first," Wendell says.

"Yeah, yeah… you two had it so rough," Hodgins laughs. "I'll be drinking scotch from an actual glass like a civilized person."

"Whatever," Angela sighs. "All I know is, Cam, Bren and I will have drunken you all under the table by nine fifteen. Mark my words."

Brennan squeezes Booth's hand again and he squeezes back, smiling down at her. If they'd known it would be this easy, this simple, maybe Booth wouldn't have been so worried about everyone finding out, so determined to keep their relationship under wraps.

But then again, it probably wouldn't have changed anything at all.

Because he loves her and she knows that often means being irrational. Strangely enough, she finds she doesn't mind.

Later, after they've all gathered their jackets and bags and they're headed for Founding Fathers, Angela steps between Brennan and Booth, linking an arm with each of them.

"Okay, you two," she says jovially. "Now that you've decided to be more open about this whole thing… answer one question for us. How? I mean, after so many years of insisting that you were only partners, what finally flipped the switch?"

"Yeah, come on, man," Hodgins says, nudging Booth. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Was it because of the baby stuff?" Cam asks.

Brennan looks over at Booth, trying to judge his comfort level. He just shrugs, looking resigned to the conversation.

"No," she tells their friends. "After Booth's illness, we agreed to table our procreation plans for the immediate future." She smiles almost to herself. "But we have both acknowledged that it's a topic that we're very interested in revisiting…"

Booth gives a quick nod of his head, grinning just a bit.

"Of course," she continues, just following the logical progression of her thoughts. "Given the shift in our personal relationship, there's no need to be inseminated at a fertility clinic. I will simply stop taking my orthocycline and Booth will not use any prophylactics and we can conceive a child through intercourse."

Beside her, Booth makes a choking sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"Too much?" she asks apologetically.

Even in the dimly lit parking lot, his smile is bright.

"Maybe just a bit."

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	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay, here it is, a very brief epilogue. I suppose it's not entirely necessary, but something about it felt right to me. Let me know what you think.

And thanks again to everyone who read along. It was my first Bones story so I was pretty nervous and you guys were so very kind. I appreciate it more than I can say.

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Two weeks later, they're curled up together in his bed on a rainy Sunday morning, arguing about whether they should spend the day just like that or actually get up and do something productive, when she whispers that she thinks she might love him.

"You think?" he laughs, his heart hammering in his chest. "After four years, you don't know?"

"I don't see how I could *know*," she tells him. "I understand the physiological responses that are commonly classified as love; they're easy enough to indentify. I also know, however, that that's not what you're referring to when you use the word. But it's still a nebulous concept at best, and I'm trying my hardest to provide an objective assessment of my emotional reaction to you…"

"That's very rational," he says, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Thing is, love isn't ever that rational, Bones."

"I know that. It's just… I have no real experience to go by so…"

"You've had other relationships," he points out.

She shakes her head and her eyes are shining in a way that makes him think of starlight.

"Not like this," she murmurs.

She's completely serious, completely sincere, and it knocks the breath out of him for a moment.

"You don't have to call it anything, you know," he tells her. "You don't have to say the words just to make me happy. I am happy. I don't need anything else."

She smiles, her mouth trembling with the effort, and reaches out to stroke his cheek. Her fingers are skipping along his jaw, whisper-soft, and his eyes drift shut of their own accord. It feels too much like a dream to resist.

"That's not why I'm telling you," she says. "I'm telling you because I believe it. I believe that I love you."

He presses his lips to her shoulder, grinning against her skin.

"I love you too," he whispers back, and just like that, their argument is settled – they spend the rest of the day in bed, just like he wanted.

The next morning, he isn't at the Jeffersonian more than ten minutes before he lets it all slip to Cam.

He leans back, waiting for the news to spread like wildfire.


End file.
